


Choose Your Last Words Part 3

by ElizabethWilde, VicStone



Series: Choose Your Last Words [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Captivity, Comfort/Angst, Crying, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, FrostIron - Freeform, Get Together, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Kidnapping, Loki - Freeform, Loki pretending to be Steve Rogers, M/M, Magic, Mental Anguish, Mind Games, Oral Sex, Past Sexual Abuse, Power Dynamics, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Psychological Torture, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, SHIELD Husbands, Stockholm Syndrome, Stony - Freeform, Super Husbands, Thorki - Freeform, mentions of past trauma, phlint - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-10 15:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 91,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15294102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethWilde/pseuds/ElizabethWilde, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicStone/pseuds/VicStone
Summary: With a teammate lost, teammates captured, and Loki still on the loose, the Avengers have a long road ahead. Things will get worse before they get better. If they get better.Warnings and pairings will be listed at the top of the chapters so readers can dive in or avoid certain things as they desire and will also be updated in the tags as new chapters are added. Mostly canon compliant through X2 and Avengers. While there will be many pairings throughout the full span of the fic (quite a few rather brief), the primary pairings overall are Tony/Steve, Logan/Scott, and Clint/Phil.Feel free to keep up with me on Facebook too if you're having fun with my craziness! https://www.facebook.com/wildewhispers/





	1. Grieving

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is... this is just sad. Sorry.

"Steve?" Pepper had found Steve's room entirely empty, so the natural progression had been to try Tony's suite. Despite the fact that the medical staff assured her they'd left him safe and sound in his own bed, she wasn't surprised to find him curled up in Tony's, his face buried in the man's pillow. He wasn't asleep either, despite their assurances that he should sleep through the night without difficulty thanks to the pills they’d given him. It was the first time she'd seen him since the serum went on the fritz, but that didn't strike Pepper half as hard as the sorrow radiating out from him. "Hi."

Steve started. He wondered how anyone could have come in without him even noticing, but it was Pepper. She was used to the suite and used to coming in and out as necessary. Normally it was to steal some bit of paperwork Tony had been supposed to sign a month before. "Hi," he managed in a strangled whisper. He hadn't really stopped crying. He'd managed to keep it together until everyone was back at the Tower, and then he'd fallen apart. Steve wasn't proud of it, though he was proud of how long he'd managed to keep from doing it. Sedation had calmed him, but it hadn't done anything to stop the tears. It hadn't kept him from struggling free of his own cold, lonely bed and following the siren call of Tony's. At least he felt close to the man there. 

"I wanted to check on you." She clicked on the light and Steve could see that Pepper's face was free of make-up, her own eyes red and swollen. She and Rhodey were probably the only other people on the planet who felt the grief as keenly as he did. "I still... it's..." 

Steve nodded. He carefully set Tony's pillow aside and grabbed another, patting it until Pepper slipped off her high heels and lay down next to him. They clung to each other because it was the best they had. It wasn't really enough, but it felt good not to be alone. Finally Steve let himself relax enough to drift off to sleep with Pepper crying quietly against his shoulder. 

 

The morning came with light through the window and the smell of coffee brewing. Tony was never up before him, which meant that he'd never gone to sleep. Probably up all night. Steve smiled and stretched… and saw Pepper's shoes lying next to the bed. It came crashing back down so hard and so fast that Steve found himself reaching for his inhaler to have even a chance to catch his breath.

Once he felt vaguely in control, Steve showered and dressed. He felt hollowed out, and from the look on Pepper's face when he emerged from the bedroom, he looked just as bad. "Thank you for staying."

"Thank you for letting me stay."

Jarvis' voice cut through the gentle attempts at conversation. "Captain Rogers, your presence is requested in the lab when you feel ready."

That would be never. He would never be ready to walk into the lab and see Tony not in it. The thought left him panicked, so he assured, "A-after I have something to eat. Thank you, Jarvis."

"That reminds me…” Even in the midst of her own grief, Peper managed to sound in control. Steve was reminded in that moment how much like Coulson she was at times and felt a pang of guilt that Tony wasn’t the only loss on their roster after the battle. “It's no secret that Stark Industries has been my very special problem for awhile," Pepper ventured, "but I looked the paperwork over last night. The rest? The Tower and any money not tied to the company? That's yours, Steve. Apparently Tony had Jarvis update his will at some point."

"I... I don't... it..." Steve sank down onto a stool and managed an amused snort. "Leave it to Tony to still be able to surprise me even..."

Pepper gave his hand a warm squeeze and managed a wavering smile. "Yeah. I know what you mean."


	2. Waking Up is Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan wakes up, and he and Scott take a moment to enjoy that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all deserve some smut after chapter 1. We've earned it.

Coming to in the infirmary was getting to be uncomfortably familiar. Logan's eyes fluttered open as he looked around the room. He'd woken with a headache, but it was already starting to disappear. His eyes caught sight of Scott first, then drifted to see Bruce's strained visage as well. "You people need to work on these fuckin' plans o' yours. How dead is Loki? Extremely dead, or just really dead?" he wanted to know.

"Alive," Scott answered. His tone was dull. He couldn't help sounding and feeling defeated. They were, honestly. "He took Tony."

Natasha's eyes flashed. "He took Tony's body," she clarified, tone angry rather than cold. None of it was directed toward Scott, but it was all there. "Clint and Coulson are missing too. Best we can tell some of Loki's friends got them." She took a slow breath, gaze narrowed. "Steve's upstairs."

Reaching reflexively for Logan's hand, Scott added softly, "He had to be sedated." It was hard to blame the man with everything he'd been through in such a short period of time. Losing Tony had obviously hit him like a ton of bricks. "Loki looked bad, but he seems to heal fast, and since he's gone... and it isn't like we have something else to hit him with." The man's tone bled frustration. "We don't have a plan C yet."

"Wait.. Stark's... dead?" Logan fell silent for a moment as he held tight to Scott's hand. He slowly sat up on the edge of the bed, still not quite feeling himself. He looked around at the faces in the room. Bruce, quietly sitting in the corner with his glasses in his hand, looked like he'd been crying. Natasha looked angry, but under that Logan could see the hurt. His gaze drifted to Scott, looking miserable and deflated. Logan ran a hand over his face as the news sank in, and slowly he went from mournful to angry. "Why the hell would he take the body?"

"To deny closure," Bruce said quietly, his voice faintly rough. "Especially to Steve. Just... just to twist the knife."

Natasha's expression twisted, and her jaw tensed. She felt sick just thinking about it. Tony was nothing to Loki, but laying him to rest would have meant everything to Steve. The idea that on top of it all, he held in his hands the two men who were the closest thing she'd ever had to family left her feeling sick. "I don't care what he did to me. We're going to find a way to get to Asgard and kick Thor in the balls until we get some answers. He should have killed Loki before. Now we're all paying the price."

Scott couldn't really agree. He wasn't sure he could have killed his own brother. He'd read the files, and he understood why Thor had shown mercy. Given the outcome, it had probably been the wrong decision on a million levels, but it was a decision he would have made in the same place. "Fury wants to touch base in a few hours, once Steve has a chance to... to rest. Want to go back to your room until then?"

"Sure as hell don't wanna stay here," Logan decided, pushing himself to his feet. He felt shaky - an unusual sensation for him - but otherwise alright. He was recovering quickly, though. As he started toward the door with Scott, though, Bruce stood.

"Thank you. For what you did," he said, taking Logan's hand in a firm shake that belied his typically meek demeanor. "I know it wasn't as big a risk for you, but you're new to the team, and you didn't have to."

Logan opened his mouth to answer, then just nodded. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at both Bruce and Nat. "I didn't know 'im that well, but..." Trailing off, he clenched his jaw and shook his head, taking Scott's hand and heading back to his room. It always seemed like it should get easier, losing a team member. It never did.

"I hope you don't mind if I'm not physically able to stop touching you for awhile," Scott whispered as they walked down the hall. The Tower was eerily quiet. He didn't like the still silence. He didn't like how strained everyone's faces were. He'd been through it before, they both had, and it never stopped being horrific. "I barely met the guy. It's still..." He didn't know how to put it into words. He also knew that Logan would understand anyway. They entered Logan's room in the same silence, and Scott wrapped his arms around Logan and just held him. "Okay, sorry, you probably need sleep. I needed that first."

"I just woke up," Logan pointed out, pulling Scott close to him. He tugged the man over to the couch, dragging him close and holding him tight, his hands sliding up the back of Scott's shirt to make sure he contacted skin. Stark getting killed was making it hard to want to do anything but take every moment he could get with his lover and hold onto it for dear life. "I think I need... we need to do a lot o' touchin' right now." He didn't care if it was chaste or sensual; Logan just wanted his hands on Scott and vice versa.

"I think that's a pretty good idea," Scott agreed. He stripped off his shirt and returned the favor for Logan before curling up against the man's chest to listen to the steady thrum of his heart. "I wanted to do this in the infirmary, but I figured it'd be kind of creepy with an audience."

Logan couldn't help but chuckle softly at that. "Maybe for them. I don't think I would've cared," he decided, pressing a kiss to the top of Scott's head. It felt good lying against his lover. His hands wandered aimlessly over Scott's bared skin, not trying to titillate as much as just absorb the fact that they were together and memorize every last inch of Scott. "Might've even helped the healin' process. Should be a mandatory part o' treatment: shirtless hot guy in the lap."

 

"Upside is now you've got as much of it as you want. No waiting, no interruptions... well, until Fury decides he wants us. I'm guessing he'll wait until Steve's vertical." Thinking about what Steve was going through made him hold on a little tighter. He could so easily have been in the same place that it was terrifying. "Scared me. I know you recovered last time, but I kept thinking about... if you didn't." Scott's breath caught at the idea, and he breathed carefully through the pain. Before the mission, Scott honestly hadn't let himself consider the idea of Logan not coming home. After, watching everyone grieve, he'd been confronted rather brutally with the idea.

"What scared me was thinkin' what'd happen if we didn't win; I thought Loki might get to you. That's why I couldn't put the gun down. I couldn't let him..." After seeing what the god had done to his teammates, to him, to Scott... He was pretty damned terrified at the thought of what the god could've done with Scott. "I remember thinkin' as I fell that I couldn't protect you if I needed to." He pulled Scott tight against him.

A shuddering breath passed through Scott's lungs as he fought against the urge to cry. Logan had been thinking of him right up to the end, and that was beautiful and awful in a strange way. He pressed a kiss softly against Logan's bare chest and sighed out to release the terror. "We protected each other. It's only fair to take turns." No one had gotten close in the end as he stood watch over Logan's body, waiting impatiently for the first breath. "Oh, hey, we... we have a few of them. The Brotherhood. Not everyone got away. Quicksilver and Mystique are in holding cells. Natasha wasn't exactly happy once she realized Clint and Coulson were gone. She more or less brought them in by herself." 

Logan couldn't help grinning in a slightly sadistic manner, and he chuckled as he thought about it. "And that's why she's not just hot, she's incredibly hot," he decided, then pressed a kiss to Scott's lips. "Not as hot as you, but still..." He sighed. 'Rough day' didn't begin to cover it, but he couldn't squelch the sense of satisfaction knowing that Nat had brought them a couple of prizes, at least. "Maybe they can help us find Loki's hideout. And maybe they've got a few dozen bruises for their troubles, too. Broken bone or two wouldn't hurt my feelings, in fact."

"I think half the reason Natasha looked so pissed in the infirmary is because the medical team was supposed to be allowed to look the prisoners over before she could talk to them. What they really wanted was for her to sleep. Something tells me she's probably pacing the halls like a creepy Russian tiger instead." He couldn't help smiling, though. Sexy as hell and great in bed or not, she also happened to be one of the most capable, controlled people he'd had the pleasure of going into the field with. "I get the feeling she won't get a crack at them until after the meeting with Fury. If they even let her get close. She kind of seemed like taking them in was a consolation prize at best."

"I have a feelin' they won't let 'er near them. I hear the Geneva Convention's not real popular in Russia," Logan said, smirking at the thought of her beating Piotr unmercifully. Hell, Logan himself would be tempted to do the same given the chance. He might even be tempted to hit Mystique, though battering women without provocation wasn't really his thing. He'd learned long ago that women weren't by any stretch the 'weaker sex,' but... well, he was a little old-fashioned, maybe.

As much as he hated to bring the moment down, Scott couldn't help but worry that Logan might be hurting more than he let on. "I know that you and Tony and Steve... it was just a one off thing, but..." He couldn't help thinking it had to make things hit a little harder and a little closer to home. “You sure you're okay? I mean, as okay as any of us can be at the moment?" They were all shaken. The whole Tower was a mess. He wondered if Tony's AI would continue on without maintenance, if the robots down in the lab would keep working. It was kind of creepy thinking about it, so he promptly stopped.

Logan sobered a little, taking a deep breath. He quietly ran his hands over Scott's arms as if to ground himself in the moment. "I've lost a lot o' people," he said quietly, looking into his lover's eyes. He pulled Scott close, more for his own comfort this time. "It hurts. But you get used to it."

"Okay," Scott answered. He knew it wasn't, but he understood precisely what Logan meant. What they were going through was a million miles from okay. "At least we're not okay together." He grabbed one of Logan's hands and kissed the palm of it. "I'm here, I'm real, and you're here and real and breathing. We've got a lot going for us on the grand scale considering what's going on with some of our friends. It's the only thing I really need right now." As much as he'd toyed with the idea of moving on and finding his own life apart from being a hero, Scott was coming to realize it was too deeply under his skin. It was what they did. He might not be ready for steady field duty yet, but Scott knew he couldn't walk away from it, especially with the Avengers in dire need of warm bodies.

Logan smiled, tugging Scott closer. "Livin' in the now is the best thing to do," he agreed, pressing his lips to Scott's throat. "Though I'll make sure to pour out a beer for 'im. Or a whole bottle o' scotch," he amended with a fond smirk. The smile faded a moment later as he remembered he wouldn't get the joy of seeing Tony drunk again. He still remembered throwing Stark on the couch in the hotel in Japan and telling him he wasn't getting a good night kiss. He remembered waking up with Tony curled against his back, having gotten lost in the night. "He was an ass. But he was a good guy."

"Seemed like it," Scott agreed. He could hear a fond kind of sorrow in Logan's voice. It hurt but there was hope in it too. They were going to be okay. "You know, I always thought the mansion had its fair share of crazy. As it turns out, this place is at least twice the 'fun'." He sighed heavily and kissed Logan's chest. "Easier to deal with when I have such excellent company."

Logan chuckled. "Well, at least Chuck just sent us out to fight ancient evil. He didn't insist on us bringing it home with us." He sighed quietly. "Then again, I guess a houseful o' mutants would be enough potential mass destruction."

"We're our own ancient weapon of mass destruction," Scott agreed with a laugh. That the mansion was standing was a testament both to Xavier's leadership and its solid construction. "Lesser houses would have fallen." He was pretty sure Stark had built his foundations just as well, though the thought brought with it a reminder of the day that drew the smile from Scott's face. "How long until Fury pulls us all back in and tries to convince us we're not as fucked as we think we are?"

"Probably gonna be right after e convinces himself," Logan guessed. While Fury was obviously good at not being freaked out by anything in public, Logan had a feeling the man was a lot less guarded in his own office. Or maybe not. Fury could have just as easily been one of those that was so jaded that nothing threw him.

"I can't help thinking something like this has to hit even a guy like Fury," Scott answered, "but maybe I'm giving him too much credit." The man was cold. He was a leader in a whole different realm from Xavier. Fury wasn't interested in being anyone's friend. He did his job, and he expected everyone else to do theirs. Scott still hadn't decided how he felt about the change in styles. "What do you think happens to this place? The tower, all the stuff in it, the AI. This place was built from the ground up by Stark."

Logan frowned. He hadn't really thought if that. "I think that girl with the red hair... Potts? I think she's probably got some of it. Far as Jarvis goes, though... maybe Bruce can take care of it. Or that kid... uh... Fitz. Not really sure, but it seems like everyone's pretty attached to the place. I'm sure it'll get taken care of."

"Yeah. It's kind of... well, it's like he left kids. They just happen to be, like, a lab and a building." Scott shook his head and wondered if that made any sense at all. "You're right, though, I don't see SHIELD giving up a place like this unless they have to." He shifted to keep his extremities from falling asleep and ended up settling more or less back into Logan's lap. "I'm gonna try to start some kind of therapy, talk to somebody. I want to go back into the field eventually, I think. Right now, I'll stick around here. No matter how much I think about something else, it's safe to say I'm not going to get out of the superhero business altogether. Apparently I'm not cut out for telling people no."

Logan nodded, running a hand through Scott's hair and smiling. "Y'know, I tried that a couple o' times. Sayin' no, I mean." He smiled faintly. "It's pretty tough to make it a firm no. 'Specially when Chuck pulls your ass outta the fire." It felt good having Scott in his lap. The man being pressed against him meant that Scott was safe. Logan still remembered how vulnerable Scott had been when he'd found the man, and it was hard to stop feeling protective. "You might have a hard time goin' out into the field without me attached to ya, though." It had been frightening fighting Loki with Scott at his side, but it would have been more frightening for the man to have been out there without him.

"Not sure I'd want to." Somewhere along the way he'd gotten used to Logan, even before he'd counted the man as a friend. Shifting, Scott straddled Logan's lap properly just to be closer. His arms slid over Logan's shoulders, and his forehead fell against Logan's. "I really, really wouldn't want to, actually. Having you next to me feels safe. Which is pretty dumb when we're all risking our butts with a guy who might as well be a real god." He kissed the man's lips. "It still feels better doing it with you."

"Like old times. But less with the me wanting to wring your neck," Logan agreed, running his hands over Scott's back and down the tops of his thighs. They slid back up a moment later, his fingertips barely sliding up the legs of Scott's boxer briefs. "I think I like you straddling my lap better, anyway. Lot more fun." He leaned up for another kiss, sighing heavily against Scott's full lips. "You're too damn pretty to kill."

"You too, hairball," Scott answered, leaning into the next kiss. He didn't meant to push or to try and molest the man considering the tone of the day. It wasn't the time for sex. Or it was the perfect time. He was beginning to lose sight of which was which as he slid his tongue into Logan's mouth. The man had that effect on him. "This okay? I can back down if this is... if it's a bad time, I can cool it down."

Logan shook his head, sliding his hand to the back of Scott's neck. "You think too much, Scooter," he growled, dragging the man into another kiss, drawing Scott's tongue into his mouth and sucking on it as he ground his hips up against his lover. Maybe it was callous or maybe it wasn't, but Logan wasn't the sort to spend his time mourning too heavily especially when he was pretty sure what activities Stark would encourage in the same situation.

Scott was glad to have permission. He fell back onto the couch and dragged Logan down on top of him. "I do. I really do. So what I need is somebody who can distract me." Scott looked up at Logan from beneath heavy-lidded eyes and challenged, "Think you can fuck the concentration out of me?" It was cheesy and stupid, but they needed a little bit of that after such an absolutely shit day.

Logan's breath left him in a low groan as he cupped Scott's face, thumb tracing over his lower lip before he leaned in for a kiss. "I'm glad that's what you want, because after ya looked at me that way, you're not gettin' away without it," he rumbled, slamming another, harder kiss to Scott's lips as he slid a hand back to cup the man through his underwear. He needed to forget for a minute. They both did.

"Think I'm okay with that. Really, really okay." Scott arched into Logan's touch and reached down to palm Logan through the barrier of cotton. He gave a warm squeeze to the answering hardness that he found there. "How the hell did I never notice that you're so sexy? You're so fucking hot." Scott didn't care that he was babbling, and Logan didn't seem to either. "Once the world is safe again, I suggest we spend all our time here in your room wearing no clothing whatsoever."

 

Logan didn't mind the babbling at all. Knowing he could make someone as controlled as Scott go completely incoherent with just a touch was actually kind of a huge ego boost. "I like that plan. I think we should definitely do that," Logan agreed with a broad grin, watching Scott's lean muscles contract as the man worked to gain more friction, a pleasure which Logan teasingly denied. Instead, he captured Scott's lips in another kiss as his fingers teasingly slid into the fly of Scott's boxers, stroking fleetingly across the man's cock here and there without offering any sort of real relief.

The teasing was fine by Scott. He was hot and hard, but that would keep. He was just as interested in seeing all of Logan and enjoying the process of getting where they were going. "Y'know, this couch is becoming our official fuck spot. Maybe we should mix it up, actually go have sex in bed. That would be kinky for us." Scott didn't really care where they had sex as long as they did have sex. As long as he got to keep pawing at Logan like it was going out of style, he was a happy man.

"We did have sex in the bed. We just happened to have a third party with us, to make sure it stayed kinky," Logan countered, nipping at Scott's throat. "We'll haveta mix it up sometime, though. Maybe we can do it on the kitchen table. Or I could tie ya to the bed post." While he gave Scott a moment to think about that, he worked to raise a hickey on the man's throat, his hand sliding more surely into Scott's boxers to wrap around his cock.

Scott's eyes fell closed as Logan gripped him. The idea of Logan tying him up and fucking him was a thousand times hotter than it should have been. Or maybe just as hot as it should have been. "Any of those. All of those. I don't remember the question actually, but that's okay. How about you kiss me instead?" Scott didn't wait for an answer, just threw himself into another kiss. Logan honest to god tasted good, and Scott wondered how someone who'd spent time clinically dead could somehow manage to have fresh breath. "More kissing," he mumbled against Logan's lips. "I need my brain to shut up."

Logan gladly obliged, his free hand tangling none-too-gently in Scott's hair. He ground himself against the man's thigh and groaned his arousal against his lover's perfect lips. He let go of Scott's cock for a moment to shove his own boxers down to his knees, then tugged Scott's up a bit. Logan swiped his hand over Scott's cock once more, gathering precum on his fingertips to smear on his lover's twitching hole. If Scott wanted to forget, Logan was going to make him; he slowly pushed the tip of one digit in, his tongue still sliding along Scott's, more or less fucking his mouth.

The things Logan's tongue could do were enough that Scott almost didn't notice the man opening him up at first. It was a low undercurrent of pleasure that rumbled happily along beneath the more active parts of what they were doing. He was too busy sucking on Logan's tongue to demand more, but the desperate shifting of his hips probably said it all. They both needed it. They'd lost someone, and that hurt like hell, and Scott wanted to blow that away until he could only feel Logan above him and inside him, surrounding him. 

Logan growled his pleasure as their tongues dueled. "Love seeing you like this," he murmured between kisses. "Needy and out o' control." His breath puffed hot and hard against Scott's neck as he loosened the man up and slowly worked another finger into his body. "You just act controlled, but you're really a little slut for me, aren't ya?" Scott had responded well enough to some rough talk before, and Logan was curious to see if it still held true.

Scott let out an unconscious groan at the prompt, his hips moving desperately against Logan's hand. He supposed it was true. He'd heard plenty of repulsive things hissed at him while he was in the hands of the slavers, but that had been something different. It had all been about power and fear. This was about giving himself up and trusting Logan completely. There was no real comparison. "Yeah," he gasped, "j-just for you... just for you, baby."

Logan smiled his satisfaction, dragging a finger across his lover's prostate before he fumbled some lube from the coffee table onto his fingers and thrust a third into Scott's body. "Fuck, you're tight. And fucking beautiful like this, too," he murmured. He loved how responsive Scott was behind closed doors. He'd seen the man take terrible beatings with barely a reaction, but a little pleasure, and his lover was squirming and making the most beautiful sounds.

Scott wondered if he would have ever been able to do the same things with someone else and suspected not. He trusted Logan with his life, so trusting him with embarrassing sexual proclivities didn't seem like that big a deal. It was so damn much easier than it had been with Jean that it was laughable. When Logan dragged all three fingers against his prostate, Scott's whole body bucked, his legs spreading wide to give Logan as much access as humanly possible. He gladly bared himself for Logan in a way he never had for anyone else. "You're so fucking hot like this. Sometimes I'm not quite sure if you're going to fuck me or eat me alive."

Logan dropped his head, giving Scott an obligingly predatory look as he leaned it to bite at the man's collarbone. "Do I have to pick?" he rumbled. Scott opening up for him was more than enough to break whatever discipline he had left, and he withdrew his fingers rather suddenly, grasping Scott's hip. He leaned up, biting at his lover's neck, breath puffing against Scott's ear as he growled, "'Cause you're makin' me wanna do both." With a slight shift, he was slowly sinking into his lover, dark hazel eyes fixed on the man's face as he took him.

"D-don't stop on my account," Scott stammered. He could only sink into the couch at first. His body refused to do anything at all but enjoy how it felt to have Logan inside him once and for all, to feel his lover going deeper with each passing moment. Scott recovered at last and lifted his legs to wrap around Logan's hips. "Ohhh, fuck I love that feeling." Nothing he'd ever felt quite compared to those first seconds of burning pleasure when Logan bottomed out inside him. "I think we need to schedule a standing meeting to do this every single day."

"I think we can do that," Logan agreed, lapping at a trail of sweat on Scott's neck. He shifted slowly, moving just enough to tease them both before he drew back and began thrusting slowly. "In fact, think we might haveta. You look too good when I'm fuckin' your brains out to go more than twenty four hours without seein' you like this." He nuzzled Scott's jaw, groaning softly as his lover squeezed him perfectly. "Might haveta bring Nat in once in awhile. She was pretty good at makin' you squirm, too."

"Yeah... fuck, yeah, definitely," Scott agreed without hesitation. He'd enjoyed the addition of Natasha to their fun. There had been no strangeness or jealousy despite his initial fears. Instead her attitude and obvious focus on wanting to enjoy herself - and them - had translated to something that was good for all of them. It hurt to think that she in too much pain for awhile to really enjoy any time with them, but he didn't talk about it. It was too fresh a hurt, and he just wanted to enjoy his own lover, who was whole and gorgeous and there. Scott rocked his hips and twisted until he found Logan's lips blindly with his own, sealing them together and kissing away the momentary concern. 

 

Seeming to sense Scott's worry, Logan did his best to make the kiss as distracting as possible. They both needed it, and he was more than happy to make sure they got what they needed. As his tongue stroked along Scott's, he began thrusting, matching the pace to the motion of his tongue. "Love you, darlin'," he whispered, his fingers carding through sweat-damp hair as he moved inside his lover.

"Love you too. So fucking much," Scott answered, his filter more or less gone. It had less to do with being too hot and bothered to think and more to do with the fact that he wanted Logan to know that there weren't any stops on. When they were together, Logan got everything - good and bad. He met Logan's gaze, his own eyes dark and in the dim light of the apartment. "I want you to leave a mark or two." It went without saying, really, or he hoped it would, but Scott was tired of looking at his fading bruises and having no idea who'd made them. He wanted something that made him Logan's again, a mark that he could see and feel to remind him that he belonged to someone.

Logan nodded, understanding without much effort where the request was coming from. "Glad to." As if to assure his lover he really would, he thrust hard into the man's body, watching as Scott's eyes fluttered and his lips parted. He brushed their mouths together fleetingly before shifting to kiss a trail along the man's jaw and down to his throat. His lips worked down to Scott's collarbone, and he nipped at the skin lightly a few times before shifting to Scott's shoulder. He hooked his hips into Scott's body right as he sank his teeth into the skin, licking and sucking at it a moment later once he was confident the bite would leave a mark.

Scott arched off of the couch and clung even tighter to Logan as the man moved against him. He could feel the bruised flesh throbbing, but it was a pleasant, comforting sensation. The pain didn't bother him. He could handle the sharp, sudden jolt for the warmth that suffused him afterward. Scott wasn't sure if it was him somehow keying into Logan's baser instincts or if it was something he might have enjoyed with anyone else - he suspected not - but the primal reminder of their love made him feel better at once. "I really like being yours," Scott whispered over the sound of their heartbeats and the slide of skin on skin.

The simple statement seemed to go straight to the most animal parts of Logan's brain, and he half-moaned, half-growled his approval as his hips gave another sharp thrust forward. "You are," he rumbled, biting roughly at his lover's collarbone, "all mine." Logan was accustomed to having to treat his partners with kid gloves, having to hold back to keep from hurting them. Scott seemed to relish him letting his true nature off the leash. He pressed his lips to the second bite mark a moment later, his thrusts still slow but slamming home hard. "Fuck, you're beautiful."

The feeling of Logan rocking hard into him left Scott gasping and wanting more. He met Logan's gaze. Scott lost himself in the vibrant hazel of Logan's eyes and the fact that they were actually looking into one another's. He wasn't hidden behind lenses, shielded from and apart from everyone and everything. Being exposed was still difficult in the field. It still felt too vulnerable. With Logan it felt like perfection. Maybe it was because he'd spent so long hiding and holding back that being with someone so blissfully unleased suited him. Not that it mattered either way. It just was. "And you're the sexiest person I've ever gone to bed with. Possibly ever seen."

 

If he hadn't been completely wrapped up in Scott and the way the man squirmed underneath him, Logan might have wondered at that particular statement. As it was, he took it as a compliment. Scott's eyes were beautiful, and Logan reflected it was a shame that he'd had to spend so much of his life covering them up. //At least I get to see 'em now,// he reflected, leaning in for more kisses as he began to fuck his lover with abandon. "Feel so good," he murmured, nipping roughly at the man's jaw, his throat. He wanted to watch Scott come undone, to see him arch and gasp and squirm underneath him in all the right ways.

Scott heard himself actually whimper in response, but he didn't particularly care. He just let Logan fuck him while his eyes drifted closed. The desperation was rising, and soon Scott's eyes flew open again. They locked at once on Logan's face, trailing over the sweat as it made a path down to the man's neck and the powerful muscles straining. He reached between their bodies and gave his cock a few harsh strokes. That was all it took before Scott came. His lips went slack beneath Logan's while his body went tight, squeezing Logan's cock hard inside him.

Logan felt the shift in Scott's tension right before Scott's body bucked underneath him. Scott's clenching muscles were almost enough to send him over the edge, but he managed to watch Scott ride out most of his orgasm before he came with a deep growl of pleasure. He gasped out Scott's name as he spilled himself deep inside his lover, burying his face in Scott's neck and placing one more bite on the man's skin. He held Scott close to his body as the man trembled in the aftermath, relishing the feeling of Scott's body, completely undone, twitching against him.

"Jesus fucking... you are... fuck, you're amazing," Scott babbled before he kissed Logan hard on the mouth and grinned. Sex with Logan was a revelation. Even sore and tired in the aftermath, he felt cleansed in a strange sort of way. 

The universe apparently wasn't interested in letting them rest too long because a voice cut in, "Forgive the interruption, but Director Fury has requested your presence in the main briefing room." 

Scott was pretty sure that if he hadn't been used to hearing Xavier in his head, that would have made him jump out of his skin. Instead he answered with a sigh, "Thanks, Jarvis. We'll be there in ten."

"Understood, sir."

"At least it's enough time to shower."


	3. Science Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jemma brings Bruce out of his shell, and the science team makes a little progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The team deserves some good news, and Bruce & Jemma are adorkable.

Simmons knocked gently on Bruce's door. She hated to interrupt him, to interrupt any of them. Even she felt the loss keenly, and Stark had barely liked her most of the time. There were dark circles beneath Jemma's eyes, and she obviously hadn't slept. When Bruce finally opened the door looking no better, she refrained from any expressions of grief. He'd heard a million condolences, she was sure, and would hear a million more. "The Avengers need Captain Rogers now more than ever. Fitz and I are close, but we don't know the serum the way you do, Dr. Banner. We need your help."

Bruce's expression darkened momentarily, but Simmons' haggard appearance along with her words served to keep him from chasing her off. He was silent for a long moment before he nodded slowly. "Alright, fine," he said, reaching back to grab his glasses case and stepping out to follow the young woman to the lab. "Maybe... maybe there are some things we can try." He felt terrified at the idea of playing with the serum, but maybe, just maybe, Fitz-Simmons would be the key to making it work. Simmons was right. The Avengers needed Steve to be the Cap again. Everyone in the tower did, in fact.

Simmons breathed a sigh of relief when the man fell into step beside her. She was honestly too weary to argue the point the way she would have liked. Quietly, she assured him, "We aren't trying to recreate the serum. That's... it's dangerous. I trust my employers, of course," she added hurriedly, "but it's... it isn't... I don't think it's a power anyone should really have. My solution is based far more on reactivating the serum already in Captain Rogers' bloodstream. It would mean that instead of attacking those cells and killing them off, what's left of the serum already would go back to reproducing on its own. His body would rebuild itself. The process would likely be more gradual than the original application, but that might be for the best anyway. Less strain on his system." Simmons bit her lip and wondered if the information dump was too much in Bruce's frazzled state.

Bruce leveled a smile at the young scientist that was far bigger and more genuine than he'd thought himself capable of. "You know, Fury wasn't exaggerating when he said you two are geniuses," he said. He pulled her into a quick hug, then grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Just... you gave me a reason to smile. And I'm proud of you guys. You think Fitz'll freak out if I hug him, too?"

Blushing furiously from the quick embrace, Simmons stammered, "Well, yes, but not because of you," she added in a rushed tone, "but it's... he doesn't, well, we don't hug often. Except each other. I'm not sure that counts." It sounded more and more mortifying the more she talked, and finally Simmons ducked her head and pointedly closed her mouth, determined not to dig the hole any deeper. "I meant it, though, about not being able to do this without you. I'm brilliant with this sort of thing - sorry, modesty, but, well, I am - but you're even better."

Fitz lit up like a Christmas tree at the sight of Bruce by Jemma' side. "Brilliant! We were worried that, well, that you wouldn't- but, brilliant!"

Bruce couldn't help shooting Simmons a mischievous grin before lunging forward and giving Fitz a big bear hug. Stepping back, he clapped Fitz on the shoulder and grinned. "I hear you two are the brilliant ones. Let's see what you've done." He pulled up the files on the work they'd done, putting his glasses on as he looked them over. "This really is amazing." He glanced at Simmons. "You're the biologist, so I'm guessing you did most of this? It's incredible." He smirked. "Few more years, and you're going to make me look like a solid idiot."

The young woman blushed all over again. "Oh, well, I wouldn't say that. Your papers on-" She caught the look that Fitz was giving her and quieted. "It's nothing. Just doing my job is all." Simmons couldn't help being pleased by the praise, but they really did have work to do, and they were all running on fumes. In that spirit, she ducked over to the coffee machine and started a new pot. "What I'm not sure about is," she leaned over Bruce's shoulder to poke at the screen, "this. The sequence is... well, it's messy, isn't it? I'm not sure it's right at all, and if that reaction doesn't happen as expected, there's a much poorer chance of accurately predicting the results." 

Fitz winced. "To put it a bit less nicely, it won't work at all. That section there doesn't go off with a bang, so to speak, and Captain Rogers' cells keep eating themselves. Well, eating the serum-y bits, anyway, and eventually there won't be anything left to wake up."

Bruce frowned, nodding his head. "I see what you mean." He tapped at the screen, looked at his tablet, adjusted some numbers, and frowned again. He ran his first adjustment through the simulator and winced when the reaction went a direction that was all too familiar. "No," he said shakily, erasing the attempt with a swipe of his hand. "We don't need two of me." He gnawed on his lower lip, poking and prodding at the formula. "One of you better bring me coffee. This could take awhile."

"Coming right up!" While Fitz tried to tackle the sequence from another end, Simmons fixed each of them mugs of coffee, passing one to Bruce, one to Fitz and clutching one herself. She drank from it as if it was the elixir of the gods, and considering she was well into her second day without sleep, it was. "I do believe I should be capable of hearing colors any minute now," she announced in the same cheery tone before frowning at her screen again. "No, we don't need that... two of you- well, not of you, Dr. Banner, but of the Hulk might be... that could possibly be considered overkill. And I'm not sure even SHIELD insurance covers that much damage."

 

Bruce smiled. It was nice having someone around that didn't treat him like a live grenade they'd lost the pin to. "Considering I broke Manhattan all by myself, I feel safe in saying that two of the other guy might pose a significant liability," he said, prodding at the formula. Simulating the next try indicated it would create a deadly chain reaction in Steve's immune system. He sighed. "This is so much harder than it should be," he muttered to himself in frustration.

Simmons nodded solemnly. She drifted over from her own station, placing a hand on Bruce's shoulder so that she could lean in to see where he was in the process. The lab was a place in which she let herself forget the concept of personal space since generally it was just her and Fitz, and there was no reason not to be relaxed. She realized a moment later that Bruce might not appreciate the invasion of his space, but it seemed too late to draw back, so Simmons simply blushed and focused on the equations instead. "We need to find a way to stabilize it. Poor Captain Rogers is going through more than enough without," she gestured to the screen and sighed. "What if we..." Still leaning into Bruce, she tapped at a few keys and bit her lip, utterly missing the fact that Fitz was glaring at them from across the room.

Bruce smiled faintly to himself. It was nice, actually, having someone other than Tony around who wasn't afraid to get within ten feet of him. Well, Nat and Steve weren't either, but they seemed to think he wanted the space. Tony just didn't care. But Simmons was nice. And she smelled nice. Reminding himself they were actually doing something, Bruce focused on the monitor. "Maybe this," he said, taking out one compound and throwing in another. 

Simmons' eyes went wide. She'd been staring at the code so long she honestly hadn't even thought about mixing things up, had been too caught up in the idea of fixing what was there to think about actually changing it. "Oh! Oh! Fitz," she hissed, waving him over and point at the screen, all but bouncing on her heels despite being exhausted. "Run the simulation again. Please," Simmons added, cheeks going pink as she waited impatiently for Bruce to flip the virtual switch. "This could be it. It could actually work."

Bruce glanced toward Fitz, wondering at the man's apparently sour expression, before pushing the button. The numbers ran, and Jarvis displayed the results. "We have a winner," Bruce said quietly. Something else occurred to him a moment later, though, that tempered his excitement. "Jarvis?"

"Sir?"

"Do... Tony... Tony's not- " He cut himself off, feeling his throat tighten.

"I... am aware, sir. Remember, I was integrated into his suit." The AI sounded strangely sad.

"Do we need to do anything to maintain you?"

"I should be fine, sir. I will let you know if I need anything."

Bruce nodded, then focused on his screen again, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "We should let Steve know about this. When he's up to talking again."

"Yes. Yes, he..." Honestly she had no idea if he would be the least bit pleased. Steve had been through too much. "Well, I suspect that he'll be happy to be back in the fight." After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she suggested, "Jarvis? When Captain Rogers wakes up, could you let him know that we'd like to see him?" She didn't miss the note of distinct sadness in Jarvis' voice when he agreed. He might have been AI, but he'd been programmed by Tony Stark, and apparently there were downsides to that brilliance. "Thank you. Dr. Banner, if you'd like to get rest, we can keep watch here."

Bruce nodded, started out the door, then paused. He fiddled with his glasses uncomfortably and smiled nervously as Simmons looked at him with curiosity. "Thanks for your help. And for getting me to help you." He smiled with a little more confidence a moment later. "And for not treating me like a powder keg." He glanced briefly at Fitz. He'd have preferred no audience, but the idea that he'd have any chance of that happening again anytime soon was one he wasn't willing to bet on. "Simmons... Jemma. We should have coffee sometime." He saw her start to protest, and held up a hand. "In a coffee shop. With no lab equipment." Already nervous enough, he smiled one more time and then ducked out the door.

Simmons recovered a few seconds after the door closed, and she ducked her head, blushing and smiling widely only to find Fitz frowning at her when she looked back up again. "What?" she challenged, eyes narrowed. "Pick your words very carefully, Leopold Fitz."

Immediately Fitz quailed only to find his spine again a second later. "You should be careful, Jemma."

Expression still deadly, Simmons tilted her head. "Of?"

"Of... oh, come on, Jemma! I like Dr. Banner, you know I do, but he... well, he... he's still..." 

"Not a word," she hissed. Simmons raised a finger in warning when Fitz' mouth opened again. "You should get sleep. I'll take the first shift waiting for Captain Rogers. I'll run the simulation a few more times. Sleep. Before you say something I'll be forced to make you regret, Fitz." 

Knowing that she didn't make empty threats, Fitz sighed heavily and trudged over to the cot in the corner, curling up on it and muttering under his breath about the suitability of dating genetic experiments.

Simmons rolled her eyes and started the simulation again. She pulled her phone out and, before she could get nervous and talk herself out of it, shot Bruce a quick text: COFFEE WOULD BE LOVELY.


	4. Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are almost sort of okay for Steve for a few minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more Pepper and Steve helping each other out with emotional health, and a tiny dash of science.

Breakfast was quiet. Neither Steve nor Pepper knew quite what to say, so they sat close beside each other drinking coffee and eating cereal and trying to pretend it wasn't the most painful morning they'd ever suffered through. "It's funny," Steve finally half-whispered, "when I think about it... it wasn't... we weren't together that long." 

"Quality over quantity," Pepper answered with a wavering smile. "Anyone who saw the two of you together knew what you meant to each other. It doesn't matter if it was a week or fifty years, Steve."

"Yeah." Except it did, and they both knew that. It didn't matter because of what anyone would say about their relationship. Steve felt fairly confident that at least inside the Tower, no one was likely to doubt that. It mattered because they'd planned for a whole life, and they'd barely gotten to taste what it could have been. It mattered because they'd been robbed of something precious. "I guess I should get down to the lab."

"I'll clean up breakfast, then it's back to meetings." Pepper sounded exhausted just talking about it. "People keep telling me they'll be happy to wait. I think waiting would be worse. I'd rather do it all. I'd rather do every last bit of it right now." 

"The more you work the less you think."

She sighed appreciatively. "Yes. Exactly."

Finally Steve stood, took a breath, and said aloud, "I can do this," knowing that Pepper wasn't about to make fun of him for needing the external assurance. All he got from her was a small nod before he made his way downstairs. In the lab - painfully quiet without Tony's energy filling the room, and Steve had to fight back tears yet again - he found Simmons hunched over a computer, barely awake, and Fitz curled up in a ball on the cot snoring softly. "Agent Simmons?"

The young woman started and then smiled broadly at him. "Captain Rogers! Wonderful, wonderful, please, sit." Simmons ushered him into a chair and then explained, "Fitz and I were so close last night, we almost had the answer, and Dr. Banner came down and-"

"I'm sorry, could you start from the beginning, please?" Steve was too tired to try and follow the young woman's manic energy. It was difficult on the best of days, and they were a long way from one of those.

"Oh, of course! I'm sorry. The serum. We've been working on a way to reactivate the serum. Mr. Stark," she faltered, smile fading, and then continued, "had asked us to. Dr. Banner joined us last night, and he solved the last piece of the puzzle." Simmons opened a small cooling unit and drew out a syringe. "We have a way to reactivate the serum, Captain Rogers."

Steve stared at the syringe blankly, then with growing awe. "It will... I'll go back to..." It wasn't normal, and he knew it, so the phrasing escaped him quickly. 

"It will put you back on track to being in the field, yes. The process won't be as quick as Dr. Erskine's original formula. This works only with the serum already present in your body, so it will be slow at first. The cells will be... well, will be woken up for lack of a better explanation. Then they'll begin spreading, reproducing. It may still be painful, but it should be nothing compared to what you went through the first time." Simmons paused to let Steve absorb the news. "Are you ready, Captain Rogers?"

He rolled up his sleeve and held his arm out at once. "Do it." 

Simmons nodded and tied a band around his arm, carefully finding a vein. Putting the concoction directly into Steve's bloodstream should speed the process. It would move through him more efficiently and find whatever serum was left. "I'd recommend wearing looser pants with a belt that you can adjust, shirts with a bit of room... As I said, we aren't sure of the timeline. Ideally I would say it should take a day or two, but-"

"But we aren't sure." Steve watched the needle go in without flinching and let himself believe for a moment that it might really work. It hadn't come in time for him to step in and save Tony, but maybe it would be in time for him to save Clint and Coulson. "Thank you."

"You should thank Dr. Banner, really, he-"

"I'll thank him too, but right now, I'm thanking you. Without you and Agent Fitz, we'd be even worse off than we are. Thank you. This didn't work out the way even of us wanted," Steve added quietly, voice thick, "but we're going to get Loki, and we're going to take him down. I promise."

Simmons' smile brightened again at once. "I'm going to hold you to that, Captain."


	5. Safe Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Asgard finally joins the action.

Sif threw back her shoulders and met the golden eyes of Heimdall without flinching. "I seek passage to Midgard."

"You intend to find aid."

"I do."

"You intend to bring Thor's companions to our realm and free the Lady Frigga and Odin's true son?"

"I do."

"Then passage you shall have, my lady." The gate keeper's expression never changed, but Sif would have sworn she could see a hint of a smile in his eyes as he opened the bridge to take her to Midgard and, hopefully, to the Avengers.


	6. Not Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we catch up with Tony and Loki. The situation is - as one would expect - pretty bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definite consent issues, kidnapping, mind games - though on a pretty mild scale as Loki goes. Contains Loki/Tony and Loki being a little shit. As usual.

Tony barely registered anything at first. Everything seemed muffled. It was cold. He felt heavy. Sick. Feverish. Especially the sick part. Like he wanted to puke but couldn't. He moved to roll over only to realize that he wasn't able to; his hands were suspended out to his sides. In fact, he seemed to be held upright by the bindings. He blinked, his eyes fluttering open. At first, he saw nothing. Another blink, harder, squeezing his eyelids together until tears oozed slightly from the sides. His eyes opened again, and slowly, painfully, hazy shapes appeared. Dim lights. Tony could barely remember what had happened, but he assumed that if he was tied up, they'd lost. Still unable to make out his surroundings, Tony let his tongue wet dried lips. "Couldn't just put me in a cell? Had to get all kinky, huh?" he managed, his voice gravelly and weak as he tugged weakly at his bindings.

"I think you deserve extra effort, Mr. Stark." Loki's voice was scratchy as well, and the man who stepped into Tony's line of sight looked only slightly healthier than Tony himself. Loki looked drawn, and he felt as if he'd been raked over the coals. He'd shed much of his usual armor in favor of a light shirt and pants. The weight of anything more was oppressive, and given that Tony was suspended in his private chambers, there was little reason to worry about appearances. He certainly didn't need Stark's approval. "You'll be very lucky if the worst I do to you is tear apart your mind."

"Fuck. You did survive," Tony murmured, still struggling to make out the god's outline. His eyesight was coming back, but it was slow. And looking at things hurt like hell. "You look like shit. What I can see of you." Behind his bluster, though, Tony's blood had turned to ice in his veins. He was pretty sure that being dead would have been a more comfortable outcome. His heart sank when he realized that Steve probably thought that he was dead. "I'm pretty sure that messing up my mind would only be slightly more tragic than messing up my face."

"They all think you dead. For all they know, all I've done is dispose of your corpse. Since no one expects you to be alive, no one will be looking. Not even your lover." Loki reached out and grabbed Tony's hair, jerking the man's head back with all the strength he had. "You may not care for yourself, but surely you can appreciate the fact that he'll be destroyed. I know that I do. It's the least the lot of you deserve after all of this. I may have borrowed a bit of information, but you stole from me, you tried to kill me... what should I take from you?"

Every mention of Steve's pain was like a knife in Tony's gut, but he knew better than to tell Loki; the god would just use it as a weapon against him. "Pretty sure you tried to steal from SHIELD, and they just got there in time to stop you from taking it," Tony managed, trying to keep his breathing even as his eyes watered from the yanks to his hair. It wasn't working well. He was terrified. Loki might not have been a literal god, but Tony was more than smart enough to know that in comparison, Loki was the closest thing to a god that actually existed. Not to mention, being unable to see well was nerve-wracking in and of itself. "And killing you's the only way we can make sure you're not going to keep coming back and playing with people's heads."

"The hammer is of Asgard. It does not matter who holds it in your ridiculous realm," Loki spat, letting go of Tony's hair. The man was in poor shape. Indeed he was barely alive. "The weapon... it killed your friend, not that he will remain so. It should certainly have killed you, shiny suit of metal or no." He paced slowly on the floor in front of Stark. Fear rolled off of Stark in waves, and he was physically in no shape to protect himself. He had only his wit and his silly jabs. It was pathetic. "I think that what you can do for me is submit. You're of no help to your Captain now, but you can be of help to the Hawk and Agent Coulson. I've given them to one of my companions as a treat. If you play nicely, perhaps I'll see that he leaves them breathing... not that they'll want to be once he's done."

Tony followed the moving blur that he knew was Loki with a glare. He was trying to figure out what, exactly, the god was getting at. "Submit? Like more of that baloney act in Stuttgart?" If pretending to worship Loki was all it took to get Barton and Coulson out of jail free, then Tony was pretty sure he could swallow his pride and manage it, but that seemed way too simple for Loki. Something else the god had said caught up with Tony. "What do you mean 'play nice'?"

"I mean do whatever I ask, do it without question. You'll be everything to me that Barton was, except you won't have the luxury of knowing that you had no control. I gave him that gift. He's returned the favor rather poorly, which is why he's in his current predicament," Loki explained, his gaze fixed on Tony's face even though the man couldn't see him properly. "I may ask you to give me information or make me a cup of tea. I may ask you to get down on your knees and service me... or some of my dear new friends. Do you think that your pride can handle that, Mr. Stark? For their lives, can you truly and willingly submit?"

Tony had to struggle to breathe for a moment. He wondered exactly how much Loki had 'asked' of Clint. He had a feeling that information and tea would be towards the bottom of the list of requests Loki had in mind. "Well, this is great. All those Christians told me I'd go to hell when I died, and they were right. I hate it when other people are right." The attempt at humor didn't do much to calm him and mostly just betrayed the tremor in his voice. He couldn't quite see Loki's expression, but he could tell the god was getting impatient. Loki was asking for Tony to give up the one part of himself that was the most difficult. Of all the things Tony was, submissive wasn't one of them. "Fine." A deep breath. "Okay. Fine. You use me... h-however you need to, and you let them go."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, I believe you misunderstood the terms of our arrangement. You obey me and they live. I never promised to release them, though I may once Victor's had his fun. I'm afraid that much was already promised to him, and he's done everything I asked of him." Loki smiled, feeling more like himself than he had in awhile. Weak or not, knowing that he held Tony so firmly in the palm of his hand made him feel powerful in every way he truly needed it. He hadn't noticed that the pallor of his skin seemed to be blending more and more consistently toward blue, an icy cast that left him looking as if he'd just been fished out of the lake after too long underwater. "If you submit, they live, Mr. Stark. I don't let Victor tear our their throats or use their skin to decorate his room or whatever in the world it is he does with his toys."

 

Tony twisted his hand against his bonds, wondering if he was imagining the fact that his captor seemed to be turning blue. He pretended to think over Loki's proposal, but it was obvious what he had to do. Keeping the two agents alive was still better than letting them die. Tony was fairly certain he was as good as dead already, but maybe if he kept Loki from getting bored with him, he'd survive long enough to escape. //Might as well make it count.// "Alright. If you're really that hard up for friends… deal. Me for their lives," he said, swallowing hard. He knew that making deals with Loki was a bad idea, but not playing along seemed like the shorter path to getting dead.

"We all need some sort of entertainment, Stark," Loki hissed in reply. The comment had cut in a troubling fashion, and he didn't want to let the man get under his skin. It was supposed to be the other way around. He breathed deeply to calm the tremble within at the idea of how lonely he really was. "The deal is made." It took little effort even in his weakened state to reach out to Creed. //Let them live. Do what you will with them otherwise, but they live.// Loki was certain that Creed would obey. The man was impulsive and at times foolish, but he was a good soldier in his way. Magneto hadn't been wrong about that. "You still think that someone's going to rescue you, don't you, Stark? Do you really think that they would risk their lives for your body?"

"I was really just trying not to think about it," Tony answered, trying to keep his breathing even. He wondered how long it would take for Loki to get tired of him. If the god even would. Loki struck him as the sort to keep trophies. Especially the living kind. "You think no one's going to come for your other two prisoners? Because I don't know if you've noticed yet or not, but the Avengers have a way of taking it personally when you kill one of their own. Even temporarily." He knew he might well be digging himself in a world of hurt by continuing to taunt the Asgardian, but it kept him from losing his mind to the realization that not only was he not going to get rescued but Loki had free license to use him however he saw fit.

"Yes, I have noticed that," Loki answered. "Your little group of misfit toys holds a grudge almost as well as I do." Loki smiled faintly at the idea and the growing look of panic on Tony's face. He really hadn't thought it through before, but he obviously was now that he'd been prompted. "Eventually Creed will tire of them, and we'll release them into the wild. Or, if I haven't had my fill of you yet, then I'll keep them for a time as leverage." Loki reached out and ran his fingers over Tony's cheek. The movement halted as he noted the cast of his skin, the faint lines that seemed to be surfacing over it. "As far as the world is concerned, you're already a corpse. All that will be left to do when I've finished with you is make it true."

Tony couldn't hold back a shudder at the touch or the ragged gasp that followed it. "Well, might as well make the best of it, right?" he blustered, though the quaver in his voice betrayed him. He wasn't so scared of dying as he was of what Loki would do with him until he did. Steve already thought he was dead, a thought which hurt Tony more than anything else. All that was left was for him to make sure that Clint and Phil lived. "At least I'll be a good-looking corpse." Tony had to swallow back a sense of nausea and remind himself of the teammates his sacrifice would save.

For the moment Loki was rather glad that Stark could barely see. He drifted toward the bathroom, staring hard into the mirror. Even as he watched, Loki could see the haze of blue darkening and solidifying. His eyes remained their usual cool blue, but he felt a surge of panic that was all his own at the idea of the transformation being out of his hands. Perhaps the stupid gun had done more damage than he gave it credit for. Loki drew himself up to full height and stepped back into the room. "The weapon you used, Stark, it took energy from the hammer, did it not?"

Tony stared hard at the blur that was Loki. He could make out an odd blue tinge but couldn't guess what it was. He started to come back with a snarky dodge to the question, then remembered that he was required to play along. He took a deep breath. "And from the user. And an arc reactor. But the whole framework was built around Mjolnir's evil twin, yeah," he said, wondering what was eating Loki. Considering how long it had taken for Loki to heal up from the thumping Clint had given him - Tony had seen the footage - Tony couldn't imagine that the god would be hurting too badly. At least, not for long.

 

That was it, then. The weapon was of Asgard, and at heart, he was not. Somehow it was tearing away the mask he'd worn his whole life, or at least enough of it for Loki to feel uncomfortably exposed. "You may have done yourself a disservice. What I am beneath the face I have shown you all is even less pleasant." He said no more. Soon enough he suspected Stark would see clearly enough. At least he wouldn't be able to say much. He feared for the safety of his friends, and he should fear for it. They were in Creed's hands, and the man was a monster himself. Loki wondered if Thor had ever bothered to tell the Avengers the real story of his life and his parentage, if he'd been disavowed at once or if Thor had carried the burden of his teammates thinking their parentage was truly shared. "What did my brother tell you of me?"

Tony felt himself tense a little. He knew Loki didn't like hearing about his brother. The fact that Thor was now a topic of conversation didn't seem like something that would end well. "That you're of Asgard. And his brother." He took a deep breath. "And that you were adopted." Tony didn't need 20/20 vision to see Loki twitch a little at that last part. "Is it... is it weird to be adopted in Asgard? I mean, that's pretty normal on Earth." Tony hesitated. The idea that Loki could potentially be even more unpleasant was a chilling one. "What do you mean, beneath the face you’ve shown us?" he asked carefully.

Loki ignored the question, pacing slowly before Stark for a moment and then pausing. He raised a hand, and even with limited energy, it was easy enough to send the chains currently holding Tony aloft away from their moorings. The chains tangled against themselves instead, leaving Tony free in part, his hands bound before him. The man fell like a puppet with his strings cut, but Loki made no move to assist him. The freedom itself seemed like a rather large gift. The rest Stark could figure out for himself when he had the strength. "If by adopted he meant that I was stolen from my home after my father abandoned me, then, no, I suppose it isn't so terribly unusual. I still don't... Odin says that my father Laufey, the king of the Frost Giants. I do not know who my mother is. His wife, perhaps, or... my ability to appear Asgardian suggests that there may be more to the story, but no one has seen fit to tell it to me. None who can still live or speak to me if they do."

Suddenly released from the bonds, Tony realized just how heavy he felt. And sore. He groaned as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Well, that's a lot more than Thor shared with us. But I guess it explains the mile-wide evil streak." His eyes followed Loki's pacing, though he was still having trouble picking up much more than an outline. It was a little uncomfortable, getting all that information on Loki. It really seemed like something to be kept in the family. Tony twisted at his newly rearranged bonds, sighing when he found them thoroughly impervious. He managed to edge himself back against the base of the frame he'd been tied to. Getting up sounded like too much trouble, and it would just give Loki the opportunity to knock him back down. "So I'm guessing maybe you resemble your mom."

Loki glared at the man more to soothe his own nerves than because he thought Tony could see well enough to appreciate it. "I suppose that's possible. Anything is possible." It would have soothed him more to strip Stark down and make full use of his newest acquisition. It hardly seemed sporting considering that they were both half dead. "Would it be safe to assume that you have no need to be restrained when any attempts to escape would mean their lives?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm not going anywhere," he said, trying not to sound as defeated as he felt. He could feel Loki's eyes on him, and it made his skin crawl. Knowing he had to submit to Loki's every whim only to die for his efforts was something that he wanted to avoid thinking about at all costs. Finding every possible opportunity to be a smartass was keeping him sane. At least, it would as long as Loki didn't tell him he wasn't allowed to talk. His vision was clearing enough that he was starting to more clearly pick up on the discolored patches on Loki's skin. "You... do you have some kind of Asgardian rash? You kinda seem to be turning blue in places."

Loki bared his teeth but still gestured, a sharp jerk of his fingers, and the chains fell to the floor, leaving Tony as free as he was going to be for the foreseeable future. "Perhaps I take after my father after all, Mr. Stark," he answered in a tone that was positively chilly. Realizing there was little reason to hide anything but the most secretive of details from the man, Loki sat down in an armchair that one of the mutants had found somewhere. It was ratty looking but surprisingly comfortable. "I believe that your weapon has affected me after all, though not in the way that you hoped. Perhaps you did kill a part of me."

Tony rubbed at his wrists, wondering just what that might mean. Deciding to test the waters, he stood, swaying a little, his hand pressed against the nearest solid object. "Well, I'm sure it'll grow back. People like you have a tendency to do that when you're not killed thoroughly," he observed, feeling a little breathless as he worked to hold himself upright. It wasn't as tough as he expected, but it still wasn't a world of fun. "Good to know I didn't skip hours of sleep and sex with my boyfriend with nothing to show for it."

"No, not nothing," Loki agreed mildly enough, watching as Tony attempted to find his metaphoric sea legs. The mortal was resilient in a way that was certainly appealing even if he also happened to be one of the most damnably annoying creatures that Loki had yet encountered. "Is that what happened to your companion Coulson, then? The heart I tore to shreds grew back?" It was a curious thing. From everything Loki had seen, such a blow should have killed the man, and quickly. It was mystifying to see him still up and walking and apparently well.

Tony stared at Loki for a moment as if trying to determine whether the god was messing with him. Realizing Loki seriously had no clue, he laughed a little. "No, heh. No. No, I'm not sure why he's still alive. Only Logan can do stuff like that. But I guess SHIELD managed to save him somehow." He smirked at his captor. "Maybe your aim is off."

"Mmm... perhaps," Loki allowed with a sigh. Mortals were more confusing than he had expected. More resilient. Stronger. It was actually incredibly frustrating. He let the issue lie for a moment, resolving to see what he could do with what was left of Coulson's mind after Creed was finished. Perhaps he could still find the answer then. Loki finally returned his gaze to Stark. "As for the sleep and sex that you missed out on, I suppose that's something I could make reparations for."

Tony tensed in spite if his best efforts to try and stay calm. The words were oddly calm, almost seemed like more of an offer than a demand, though Tony hesitated to let himself buy into that idea just yet. While sleep would certainly be welcome, Loki wasn't quite what he'd had in mind for the sex part. "Well, I could use a nap, at some point." He knew it was, of course, all in Loki's hands. He couldn't say no, so he didn't directly.

"Then sleep. If you can't see it, there's a bed a dozen steps away from you against the wall." He had no intention of coddling Stark. It was actually rather gratifying to watch him unable to function at full capacity. Then again, it would be a good deal more gratifying to see him at full power and still unable to lash out or retaliate the way he truly wanted to. "I'll have someone bring food. When you wake, you can eat." Catching the look of reserved surprise on Stark's face, Loki laughed aloud. "I told you: I intend to use you. If you are starved and sleepless, I suspect that you will not prove particularly entertaining."

Tony felt his heart thump with fear at the words. His weakness was keeping him relatively safe, but if Loki got tired of him, he really had no hope of saving his friends. Remembering that, he started toward where the bed was, steps slow and unsteady partly because he was still weak and partly because he didn't want to trip and fall right in front of the god when he was certain that it would do nothing less than entertain Loki. When his hands contacted the bed, Tony finally crawled into it. Laying down, he expected his mind to be swirling with too many thoughts and fears to let him sleep, but exhaustion overrode everything, and he was out almost immediately. 

The mortal slept easily. Loki honestly wished he could have done the same. Instead he sat brooding over the events of the day and trying to discern whether he felt different. //If I hadn't seen myself, would I know at all?// He closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead as if that might soothe the changes away. He had no desire to be a monster no matter what company he kept. At length he rose and stalked to the door, ordering whatever fledgling mutant was there to see about bringing food to the room. If he couldn't sleep, at least he could have a decent meal. 

On the bed, Stark slept like the dead, and Loki found himself watching the mortal intently. He wondered if the man dreamt of his lover. The idea brought a wicked smile to Loki's lips. There was potential in that idea. Simple glamour spells were easy enough, after all, and if they couldn’t bring him back to himself, they could make him someone else for a time. He ate sparingly and left plenty on the tray for Tony to enjoy a meal when he woke. The more Loki thought, the more he realized that he had other avenues to explore. It took but a moment's concentration to take on a form that he knew Stark would have no objection to and join the man in bed.

 

The movement beside him slowly roused Tony from his sleep. He blinked, and his eyes reassuringly took focus again. His vision was still slightly blurry, but nothing terrible. Remembering the weight beside him, he turned and immediately felt all the color drain from his face at the sight of his lover beside him. "Steve, how did you-" The sentence stopped short as his hands ran down the blonde's chest. The sensation was painfully familiar, but it wasn't right. Tony's expression hardened as he slowly realized something was wrong, his hands withdrawing as he pushed himself away, gasping softly as his back contacted the wall that the bed was pushed against. "Loki." He stared at the illusion, wishing desperately that it was real for multiple reasons. 

Tony wanted to be angry. He wanted to yell at the god, beat him until he dropped the charade. Instead, Tony couldn't help but feel broken, pained. Even if Bruce and Simmons managed to find a way to restore Steve to his proper self, Tony knew he wouldn't live to see it. And if they didn't, Steve was suffering twice over thinking Tony was dead. He shivered, biting back tears and halfway tempted to try and take some sort of comfort in the illusion Loki was offering. "S... stop... Please..."

"This is the closest you'll ever come to being with him again. Are you sure you want to turn your back on the chance?" It was easy to see how deeply the illusion affected Tony, how it cut him. Apparently he'd gotten something wrong, some detail that gave it away. That was no matter. Reaching out and still speaking in Steve's gentle voice, Loki pressed, "This could be seen as a gift. I thought it might be easier on you this way." That was only half true. He'd also rather relished the thought of Tony giving himself over willingly - losing himself in the fantasy enough to truly enjoy it.

Tony's heart seemed to give a painful thump, and he struggled for a moment to take a breath. It was Steve's voice, Steve's body. Tony was certain he'd never see the real thing again. The gentle words, the tone.... Tony swallowed hard, staring at the hand that had been extended to him. He wanted it to be real. It looked, felt, and sounded real. The reality of the situation hurt. Not just the illusion, but the whole damn thing. If Loki was willing, no matter the reason behind it, to make things hurt less for even a moment, Tony couldn't help but reassure himself that it was fair for him to take the offering.

Trembling fingers extended to touch the offered hand, and Tony shivered. It felt like his lover. He shifted closer, looking into those perfect blue eyes. Tony didn't have to work too hard to forget that it wasn't the man he'd confessed his love to. "Steve... love you, baby," he whispered, his voice trembling a little as he leaned in for a kiss.

That was all it had taken. Loki was actually stunned at how easily Tony had given in. He'd been more desperate than Loki gave him credit for, and the thought was surprisingly affecting. Stark was honestly in love. It was strange to be on the receiving end of that particular emotion even if it was borrowed, even if it was entirely false. He held fast to the facade and met Stark's lips as carefully as he knew how. His own experiences had all tended toward the desperate, the illicit. The moments were stolen moments. He supposed kissing Tony Stark was a stolen moment too, he'd just moved on to an entirely different kind of theft.

The contact was gentle. It wasn't right, though. Not quite. It wasn't quite Steve. It was, however, the closest he'd ever have again, and Tony was willing to cling to that in the moment. He couldn't quite shake the sense of wrongness, and he had to fight to keep his breathing level. The internal tremor was easy to ignore as his hands moved slowly over Loki's body. "You feel so good," he murmured shakily, sounding half surprised. Tony felt tears threaten as he realized in frustration that the illusion wasn't perfect and wouldn't be. But it was close enough. If Loki was going to use him, the illusion made it easier.

"So do you," Loki returned quietly. He could feel the tension and unease in Tony, the trembling and the taut muscles. "You seem tense... I'm sure I can help with that." Loki reached a hand up to carefully massage the muscles of Tony's neck, urging him to roll onto his stomach so that he could focus on the contact. Normally being a masseuse for a prisoner wouldn't have been on the menu, but the situation was interesting. The potential was interesting. "Just lie back and let me make you feel good."

Tony hesitated, then did as he was told, remembering in the back of his mind that he didn't really have an option. The coaxing words combined with Steve's smooth, gentle voice didn't hurt a damn bit, either. He sighed as Loki's fingers sank into tight muscles, letting his mind go slack. He tried not to let himself think about the fact that it was anyone but Steve rubbing the tension away from him. "Feels good, baby," he murmured, trying to solidify the illusion as much as possible. 

"Not nearly so good as you feel." He knew he wouldn't get it all right, not every bit of inflection or turn of phrase. Thankfully Stark seemed rather hell bent on making himself believe, and that would make it easier. "Let it go." Loki's fingers dug into the muscles, and he felt Stark giving in and letting the fears wash away. He dared to kiss the bared back of Stark's neck then to see how it would be received. If he was right, Tony wasn't going to be fighting anything much longer.

Tony sighed, letting himself sink into the mattress. It felt good. Too good to let his mind latch onto the imperfections, the off cadence, the oddly formal turn of phrase. Loki was letting him have Steve, and it could have been a lot worse. The touch of lips against his neck drew nothing more than another quietly satisfied murmur from him, and his muscles relaxed, melting under the contact. "Need this. Need you," he mumbled into the pillows, letting himself forget reality for the moment.

Loki reached for some oil from the nightstand and added it to the mix, smoothing it first over Stark's back and then down. Slick fingers gripped his ass and worked the muscle there before dipping between. The man was pliable and relaxed beneath him. Really Stark was rather lovely. He'd be worth fucking if nothing else. "Up on your knees. Let me open you up." Loki did his best to speak as little as possible. The whole point was for Stark to lose himself in fantasy, and Loki had no idea what Steve Rogers might say at such a moment, what platitudes he would spout to his lover. Frankly he didn't care. Loki rested himself against Tony's back so that the man could feel his hardness. "See what you do to me?"

Tony groaned at the sensation. He'd gotten turned on the second Loki started working hands over his ass cheeks, and the feeling of the hard shaft pressing against him was more than enough motivation to drive him to his hands and knees. He glanced back at his partner, shivering pleasantly at the blue eyes following him, ignoring the fact that the gaze was far more predatory, far less gentle than what fit Steve's face. Dropping his head, he rocked back against Loki, his cock slowly getting hard in anticipation. "You make me so hot, Steve," he murmured. "All that time in the lab... missed you. Missed this.

"Oh, and I've missed you." Loki might have laughed, but he refrained to avoid ruining the moment. Tony was settled into the fantasy well. He wasn't about to break the spell. Loki drizzled some of the oil over Tony's twitching hole and then started spreading it over. Once he felt the muscles relax, Loki began to carefully twist two fingers inside. "Let's make sure that you're ready for me. How do you want it? Hard and fast, or slow and sensual?"

"Slow," Tony decided without hesitation, then let out a long, low moan as Loki's fingers worked him open. The illusion was off on a lot of levels, but Tony did a decent job of not giving a damn. He wanted to forget all the fucked up things going on right then, and it wasn't hard to convince himself to do so. He squirmed against the sheets, making soft sounds of pleasure as skilled fingers worked him open. He started to ask to face the other man, but hesitated at even the subconscious thought of such intimacy with the illusion Loki had generated.

Loki felt the sudden hesitation and pressed his fingers against Tony's prostate. "Let me hear you moan." He wondered if Rogers was ever commanding. He was certainly in charge in the battlefield, but that didn't always translate to the bedroom. For all Loki knew the man preferred to spend his time being fucked into the mattress and giving up all power. It didn't matter. Stark was going to need to get used to something with a bit more edge. At least this way he could ease into it. "I rather enjoy the sound."

Tony gladly obliged, his fingers twisting in the sheets as he gave a throaty moan and arched his back as spots swam before his eyes. "Fuck... fuck yes, baby," he panted, writhing against the mattress. He let the god drive a few more whimpers from him before he finally gave in. "Can... can I face you? I want to be able to see you," he managed even as he shifted back against Loki's hand as if trying to get more of the delicious sensations.

Loki withdrew his fingers and turned Stark over in a beat. The mask he wore was a facade, but his strength was real, which made it easier to keep up the illusion. Stark looked almost drunk. Tired as he was, desperate as he was... it was fascinating. "I want to see you too." Loki thrilled at the idea of watching Stark come undone for him, wanton and willing even if he was pretending to fuck someone else while it happened. "You want me to stretch you more, or should I just take what we both need?"

Tony considered a moment, his hands trailing over Loki's body. Finally, as his thumb moved up to circle one of Loki's nipples, Tony looked up into bright blue eyes, his own heavily hooded as he took in the sight of his lover, hard and ready above him. "Fuck me," he decided, shifting anxiously. "I need to feel you inside me."

Loki grabbed the man's hips and, smiling wickedly, lined himself up. Stark was open and relaxed, and it was surprisingly easy to work his way inside. It took a few forceful thrusts, but soon he was buried to the hilt in Tony's body. Though he more often bottomed, the change wasn't unpleasant. Certainly it was worth it to see the way Stark's mouth fell open and the look of abject pleasure etched onto his handsome face. //And people talk of lies as if they're a bad thing.//

Tony was certainly enjoying the deception. His legs rose to wrap around Loki's waist as if trying to pull him deeper. The rough entry had hurt, but Tony couldn't bring himself to care. It felt too good, too comforting, and he wasn't about to complain. "Fuck yes, baby," he murmured, lightly nipping at the god's throat as he arched underneath his captor. "Fuck... feels so good... Love you so much..."

Strange, really, to know that underneath all of his flippant talk, Stark was as soft and needy as anyone else. Loki didn't bother professing love in return. There was only so far he was willing to take things just to get under Stark's skin. He barely even needed to talk, obviously, to get the man going. After the abrupt entry, he kept the pace slower to let the build move at a languid pace. He wanted to enjoy the feeling of Stark's legs wound tightly, almost desperately around his hips to keep him close. "You look beautiful like this." That, at least, was the truth. Vulnerable as mortals were, there was a lovely undertone to that need, to the desperation of such short lives lived often with so little to hold fast to. "Beautiful when you're mine."

"Yours," Tony agreed breathlessly, his hands moving to rest on solid-muscled arms. His cock ached between them, and Tony arched a bit to gain more stimulation. It felt good to have Steve fucking him again, to feel that carefully restrained strength pressing him into the mattress. It was getting easier and easier to ignore the discrepancies in the illusion, the differences in the way Loki moved. Tony hooked a hand behind Loki's neck, pulling himself up to brush his lips against his captor's. 

Loki fell happily into the kiss, his tongue dragging along Tony's lips and then delving inside. He was sure it was nothing like what Rogers did, but Stark didn't much seem to care anymore. He went for passion instead, pleasuring Tony as best he could so that he could enjoy the same pleasure in turn. Even beneath his confident facade of taking what he wanted, Loki knew that beneath it is something a bit less sure. He felt the need to take what he could of the feelings that didn’t belong to him, and squashed it as best he could by driving harder into Tony's body.

Tony groaned in perfect ecstasy as Loki moved inside him, hitting all the right spots, his cock slamming into Tony's prostate with each movement. His strangled cries and whimpers of pleasure filled the room as he neared the edge. Loki moved differently, but the lips against Tony's felt just like Steve's, tasted like his. Tony clung to that, lavished all his affection on the creature pressed against him and let the pleasure wash away the hesitation. His mouth blazed a trail down Loki's throat, and he nuzzled the god's neck as he panted for air.

Tony's passion was nothing short of intoxicating. Loki soon gave up on any thoughts of holding himself back and claimed Tony with all the heat and desire that the man inspired. He was a thing of beauty, broken and mortal as he was. "Cum for me," he ordered firmly, wondering if he'd managed a tone as commanding as the one Rogers probably used in the field when he needed to bring the man to heel. "Show me how much you need this." For a moment Loki considered dropping the facade in time for the main event but decided against it. He rather enjoyed having Tony giving himself up to the experience. There was no sense ruining the moment.

The intonation was a familiar one, and Tony gasped as Loki's hips slammed home once again, his toes curling as he felt his peak nearing. His fingers dug into the god's back, blunt fingernails raking over his skin. Short, choked gasps escaped him, a few of which sounded like Steve's name. With a low cry, Tony finally came undone, his body arching up into Loki's as he spilled himself between them. It was perfect.

It took no time at all for Loki to follow him, losing himself and cumming deep inside Stark's boneless form. The man was trembling against him in the most beautiful, vulnerable way. Loki savored the sight for awhile, stroking Tony's hair and licking a line of sweat from his chest before withdrawing. He made sure that Tony was watching before he let the glamour fall away. Fingers that were suddenly long and pale swept down through the mess on Tony's chest. "You are absolutely gorgeous when you let yourself go. It isn't hard to see why he became so attached."

Tony had opened his mouth to tell his lover to lay down next to him when the illusion disappeared. He shuddered and recoiled at the god's touch, fear washing over his expression again. "Don't touch me," he growled reflexively, regretting the words almost immediately. He knew it was partially\ his own fault, and he realized a moment later with a chill that he was more angry that Loki had dropped the glamour than he was that the god had done it in the first place. He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. There was no point in feeling guilty. It wasn't like Steve was ever going to see him again. Mostly, he just didn't like the pointed reminder that he'd been fucking Loki, and he wanted to go back to the soothing deception.

"I have no intention of wearing his face whenever you desire it, Mr. Stark. While I prefer that my bedmates enjoy their time as much as I do, that simply isn't reasonable," Loki pointed out, face betraying nothing as he continued to caress Tony's skin idly. "We all need comfort from time to time, and since you may be with me for a good, long while... well, there's no point in being cruel all the time, is there?" With the illusion gone, Loki found himself watching the shifting color of his own skin as much as gazing at Tony's. "I'm not a monster."

Tony stayed tense under Loki's touch, swallowing hard. He registered the god's distraction a moment later, and his gaze followed his captor's, registering the unusual cast of Loki's skin. "I think your complexion begs to differ," he murmured, wondering if that had been what Loki had meant when he'd spoken of the gun's effects on him earlier. "And, y'know, the whole torturing my friends and threatening to kill them. And me."

"I believe you started that," Loki answered, staring for a moment longer at his hands and then looking back to Stark. "Unless you count the zoo, but if you recall, I didn't kill anyone there. I simply borrowed one or two of your friends and then returned them. Then I went to reclaim something that was rightfully mine. I should have a world to command, but apparently one needs silly weapons to prove a capability to rule in Asgard. Competence and study count for very little among my adoptive family."

"I kinda do count the zoo," Tony returned. Realizing he was still sitting there buck naked, he pulled a sheet across his lap. It was silly, but it made him feel a hell of a lot better. "And you're skipping the part where you gave Romanov the headache from hell and turned Logan against us. Maybe nobody explained this part to you, but usually when you borrow things, you return them at least as good as you found them. And as far as worlds to command, we've got that here already. Maybe you should ask somewhere else. I hear Mars is nice this time of year."

Loki sat up and broke his gaze away from Stark. There was really no point in trying to talk to a mortal, but he needed to talk to someone. Stark was there, which made him the obvious choice. It was a frustrating conundrum. Once upon a time when he was younger, Loki had thought there was hope that his brother might be an ally, someone to listen to his thoughts and problems. Of course it turned out that women and mead were of far greater interest to Thor. "It's my understanding that your fortune came from selling weapons of destruction, Mr. Stark. You're sure that the leadership of your planet is doing so fine a job?"

Tony crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. "Here we go. Moral absolutionism." He shook his head. "Look, humans aren't perfect. We have idiot leaders. We have terrible people in our ranks. I know; I used to be one of them." He leaned toward Loki, inclining his head to get the god to look at him. "But, y'know what? I'm guessing the fact that your brother, the guy with the muscles and the epic hammer, is in charge where you're from because there are assholes in Asgard, too. If all it took was smarts and whatever concept you have of good leadership, he wouldn't be in charge, would he? You wouldn't be here trying to retrieve a weapon that was made where you're from if your world was so damned perfect. And if you've still got that nutcase idea in your head that enslaving everyone is what's going to fix it, then you might as well head to Mars, because it's basically the same idea. If you wipe out all freedom and make everyone march in lockstep, there's no war and no terror and no bad stuff, but then there's not a hell of a lot of fun, either, is there?" He stuck his chin out and defiantly narrowed his eyes at the god. "And I know how much you like chaos. You'd get bored real fast."

The last was enough to break the glare Loki had fixed on Stark. It melted into an expression of genuine humor, even if the god was still miles away from looking happy. He chuckled quietly and allowed, "At that, you may have a point." Loki shook his head and then looked back, meeting Stark's gaze since the man seemed so unafraid of doing so. It was interesting to see that Stark's tongue was undulled by fear. He had no apparent terror of saying the wrong thing and bringing about his friends' deaths. Whether that was bravery or foolhardiness, Loki had no idea. "So let's say I decide that I give up all pursuit of Asgard. I abandon my mutant allies. They will still desire to overwhelm you. Your world will not be safe from Magneto and his fellows. I care little for that, but I do wonder... where do you really think I could go?"

When he'd recovered from seeing Loki smile - quite possibly more terrifying than seeing him angry - Tony thought about it. "Well, I have no doubt that the Avengers and the X-Men together could mop up Magneto's goons. Especially if you let them have me back." He knew it was all theoretical, and that the likelihood Loki would take suggestions from him, useful or not, was small. He also wasn't unwilling to try. He tilted his head, staring hard at Loki. "I guess if you really wanted to keep yourself entertained, you could join the Avengers. Plenty of chaos where we are. Though there might be a little workplace tension."

Humor faded into stark disbelief as Loki raised one eyebrow. "Mmm, yes, I'm sure that your companions and SHIELD would be all too pleased to take me in. Are you naive or insane? Most people tend to assume that I'm the crazy one, but if you really think that's a possibility..." He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness and leaned back against the headboard as if to get a better vantage point from which to consider the mortal. "My own family won't have me, Stark. I doubt that yours would."

Tony shrugged. "Barton killed a shitload of SHIELD agents before they took him in. And then there's Romanov. Banner broke the better part of New York City way before your army showed up. Your brother brought down half of Asgard on us. And you. Hell, they put up with me, and I've broken I don't know how many international laws. Pretty sure that Steve is... is the only one that hasn't..." He trailed off as his mind wandered to his lover, his jaw clenching as he realized that the whole conversation as likely pointless, anyway. Loki wasn't about to go turn himself over to the Avengers or SHIELD, and they both knew it. The god was going to toy with Coulson and Barton until they snapped or came close to it, let them go, and then make sure Tony was dead in fact rather than in theory. He took a deep breath. "Well, moot point, right? They won't trust you, and you won't trust them."

Loki's gaze shifted away, and he was surprised by how much the reality of that statement hurt. He didn't realize until then that he'd actually let himself think for a moment that there might be any corner of the universe so strange that he might find a home in it. "No, I suppose that's the right of it. I've never been terribly good at trusting anyone, and they've never had any reason in particular to trust me." Loki had wondered from time to time which issue had fed the other, or if they'd simply come together, already nestled inside him when he was born. "I suppose that means there isn't really any hope for either of us, Mr. Stark. More's the pity."

"You make it sound pretty simple. But then, I guess you're not the dead man," Tony said flatly, his jaw tightening. He wondered absently if there would be a way to convince any of them that Loki would be on their side. It seemed unlikely. The god had a talent for convincing people he was on their side right before he stuck a knife in them. Tony knew that even vouching for the god was out of the question; they'd all assume he'd been bewitched.

Similar thoughts were filtering through Loki's mind, and he shoved them roughly aside. He had done fine on his own. He would continue to do fine on his own. There were no other choices. "Neither are you. Not yet," he answered with a slow smile. "If you're hungry, there's food." Loki gestured to a table not far away. There were no real paths out. He was beginning to wonder if the idea of victory was a ridiculous one. The mutants would have earth, but Asgard would eventually slip through his fingers. It seemed inevitable. There was a futility in all of it, every broken plan or botched mission a reminder that he'd never had a chance at emulating his brother's glory. "Have they even bothered to tell you why Thor hasn't come to your rescue yet?"

Tony nodded, still chilled from the way Loki had smiled at him. He definitely knew what a mouse felt like when a cat had it in its grips. "Yeah. More or less." He looked the plate of food over. He wasn't hungry. If anything, he was a bit nauseous, but he knew he needed food, that the upset stomach was in his head. He helped himself to a bit of bread and fruit, hoping it would be enough to calm his stomach. "Just the sketchy details. Fury's not a real giving sorta guy. Sounds like you don't really need 'Midgard' that much."

"No. But the mutants do, and I promised that I would offer my assistance. I am a man of my word in my own way," Loki answered with the same cool smile as Stark slowly ate. "My brother is properly subdued for the moment. My- his mother is with Magneto for safe keeping. As soon as I return, he abdicates the throne, and it's mine as it should have been from the beginning." But would it be? Would it hold? Thor's friends would revolt if they hadn't already. Loki let that go for the moment. "The wheels are already in motion. There's little that can be done about any of it now."

Tony watched the god quietly, chewing his food deliberately. "I think there might be a stick or two in the spokes of those wheels. Like the fact that the Avengers still have your hammer. Or that if the good guys up in Asgard aren't headed here to help us out, that Bruce and the wonder twins are already working on a way to get up there." He gestured accusingly at Loki with the apple in his hand. "You don't even believe your own hype." He was starting to pick up on the god's tics, and he'd seen the flash of uncertainty.

Though Loki's lip curled in distaste, he didn't bother countering the words. The longer it all drew on, the more tired he felt. Being locked in a cell with no company but some books and the howls of other inmates had been hell. As it turned out, his stronghold on Midgard was simply another sort of a cell with another sort of inmate. "Perhaps not," he almost whispered, gaze dropping to the bed as he considered that idea. "Perhaps this is all pointless. Perhaps that doesn't matter. I think that you and I both know there are only so many ways for this to end. None of them are particularly favorable for me, so it seems in my best interest to enjoy the things I can while I'm still able to do so. Good company, for example."

Tony froze, apple halfway to his mouth as he looked at the god with definite confusion. Was he hallucinating? Had Loki just referred to a mortal as 'good company'? He looked at the fruit in his hand suspiciously and then put it aside. He thought for a moment, wondering just how to respond. While 'first impulse' was usually his style, the situation seemed way too delicate for something like that. Finally, he decided making sure he wasn't just delirious was a good start. "So, is that my cue to leave, or is that you giving me the closest thing to a compliment I'll ever get from you?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"Let's say it's the latter for the moment," Loki answered. Clever as he was, he had yet to find an exit strategy on the horizon that would let him get out cleanly. "Has your life turned out the way you pictured it, Mr. Stark? Everything in place? Before the dying, of course. I would assume that wasn't part of the plan." He sounded genuinely amused as he retrieved his pants and pulled them up enough to be considered decent again. The lines of blue beneath Loki's skin were becoming more prominent, the whole of his body suffused with a cool undertone. It was ghoulish at best. "I don't even have the luxury of knowing what the plan for me would have been had my birth family wanted me to start with."

Tony tilted his head. "I don't really do things on a specific plan. Well, not more than a few months out. Five year plans? Not my thing. Life plans even less so," Tony replied. He shrugged. "I've changed courses a few times. Went from being a playboy weapons dealer to a playboy superhero. I discovered a clean energy source." He hadn't missed the shift in Loki's skin tone, and he wondered what that meant for the god. Or for him. Tony had halfway figured on the blue going away, not getting worse. "I have someone I love." It felt weird to word it in the present tense, but Tony sure as hell couldn't bring himself to speak in the past tense. He swallowed hard, doing his best not to show the pain that thought caused him. "I feel like I'm doing pretty well," he said, dark eyes meeting icy blue defiantly in spite of the slight roughness in his voice.

Loki considered that and finally sighed, walking toward the mirror and forcing himself to look head on at his reflection there. "I haven't felt that since I was a child. Since I seem to be in the habit of being rather blunt with you today," Loki continued, "I don't think I've ever felt that last bit. Love is an elusive thing." In his younger years, he had loved his father, his mother, even his brother only to realize they weren't his. The older Thor got, the less they came together, the less often they spoke, the less Thor confided in him. Loki had withdrawn in kind. Thor's friends loathed him before they ever had reason to, mocked him both behind his back and to his face. "Make yourself comfortable... and don't bother with escape attempts. I think you know better."


	7. Captives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phil & Clint are left in Creed's keeping, and things are as horrifying as anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is awful. Like, this is... it's bad. This chapter contains rape, mentions of past mental and sexual abuse, and it's just really dark and really triggering. You know it happens now, so if you don't feel like you want to/can read it? Nobody's going to hold it against you, least of all us. I CAN promise that it gets better.

Phil was more than slightly disoriented by the shift. For someone used to knowing precisely where he was and what was going on around him at all times, it was not in the least bit pleasant. He stumbled as they hit normal flooring and locked his gaze with Clint's. He took a breath to steady himself and continued to watch Clint for any sign of injury rather than looking at their captor. "So you have us. I'm assuming there's more to this plan than all of us sitting around and making small talk?"

Victor chuckled at Phil through razor fangs. He had Clint pulled tight against him by the wrists, seemingly barely affected by the archer's attempts to squirm free. Victor's free hand curved around Clint's throat, index finger and thumb digging into tender points right behind the man's jaw. Clint made a quiet sound of protest, but none of the defiance faded from his eyes even as he went still in the mutant's grasp.

"Well," Victor said, calculating blue eyes looking over Clint's face, "I was told I get to entertain myself with the two of you." His gaze fixed on Phil. "I just have to decide who I want to break first."

Watching Victor touch Clint made him feel sick. He'd always reacted poorly to his agents being hurt, but Clint was more than that. They'd woken up together that morning to the sound of Fury's ring tone, and they'd curled up together the night before. That Victor knew it made the situation more maddening. "Leave him alone. If you want to play with somebody, start with me." Phil had no real plan. He couldn't stand up to Victor on a physical level. Neither of them could, frankly, and anyone who could best Clint in a fight was likely to be able to take him without much trouble too. Which meant that the best he could hope to do was buy them time. 

Clint opened his mouth to tell Phil to shut the hell up, but he felt Victor's fingers squeeze his jaw harder. Too-hot breath puffed against his cheek a moment later, and he could hear the mutant breathing in his scent. The archer fought back a shudder, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he wondered just what Victor meant when he talked about 'playing.' Clint flinched as he felt the tips of cold claws drag up his back and heard the sound of fabric tearing as his undershirt gave way. A slow burn and the feel of a light trickle of blood down his back told Clint that the fabric wasn't the only thing torn.

Victor smirked at Phil. "I don't remember asking for input," he rumbled, clearly amused. He'd known the two were more than just casual coworkers, but the way Phil was acting... "Since you mean so much to each other, I might just let you take turns."

Phil's stomach turned at the sight of the blood and the look of pain on Clint's face. He would have done anything in that moment to make sure that he could protect Clint. Unfortunately the impulse played directly into Creed's hand, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Protecting Clint was instinct. //I think I see why he and Loki get along so well.// Phil wondered how different things might have been if Erik Lehnsherr was present and accounted for, if he would have been able to rein his people in and keep some sort of order amidst the chaos. Instead of addressing Creed at all, he switched his focus to Clint. "We're gonna be fine. You and I both know Natasha's not going to leave this alone."

Victor snorted, shoving Clint to the floor and moving toward Phil. "You talk too much, suit," he growled, catching Phil by the tie and staring hard at him. He had to admit to being impressed; Phil was keeping his cool rather well. "Just makes me want to hurt him more. He your little fucktoy?" Victor's gaze moved back to Clint, who was pulling himself back into a sitting position and already looping his cuffed hands under his legs to get them in front of himself. "I wouldn't try anything else, pretty. You wouldn't want me to perforate your pet bureaucrat." Clint froze, and Victor smirked, turning his attention back to Phil. "But it'd bother you if I hurt him, wouldn't it? Really hurt him. He's yours, isn't he? Or you want him to be. You want to fuck him. Maybe I should instead."

"As you pointed out, I'm not in a position to get what I want," Phil grated out. The guy was getting under his skin. The only power he held in the situation was the ability to not show it, and that faded a little more with every passing second. His nerves were frayed, the adrenaline was wearing off, and no one had come in to tell them that Loki was dead, which meant that Stark probably was. There were a lot of things wrong, and Phil was starting to wonder exactly how many it took before a person would snap. "Are you taking requests now? I'm pretty fond of 'Freebird.'"

"Phil," Clint whispered the man's name softly. It was a warning. He caught Coulson's gaze and shook his head. Taunting Victor seemed like the wrong idea. Clint had seen the mad dog type before, and Victor definitely fit the profile. 

Victor seemed amused. "Look at that. He's worried for you, suit," he said, glancing back at Clint. "He thinks I'm gonna kill you. He might be right. But first..." He let go of Phil. Messing with the man directly wasn't getting the level of response he wanted. It was obvious that the archer was Coulson's weak spot. "C'mere, little bird." He reached for Clint again, claws snagging in what was left of the man's undershirt. 

Clint kicked away, leaving just a few shreds of the garment intact, blue eyes defiant. Anything he could do to stall would give them more opportunities to get out of this mess. Clint growled in pain, though, when Victor kicked him and shoved him to his face on the floor.

"Better," the mutant growled, looking up at Coulson as he put his boot in the middle of Barton's back like a prize kill. "Much better, right?" He knelt, straddling Clint's lower back and dragging his claws over Clint's shoulders, leaving more bloody trails and drawing a hiss if pain from the archer. "I think we all like this better, don't we, suit?"

Phil suspected he looked as stricken as he felt. He really didn't mind putting his own ass on the line. Most of the time he could stand putting Clint and Natasha in the line of fire too because he trusted in the plans they made and in the strength of them both to overcome what the universe threw their way. Being confined with Creed was something else, and the thought of what he might do to Clint worried him on a deeper level than he'd expected. It was a grenade he honestly couldn't throw himself on without risking Clint's life as well as his safety. No matter how good a job Clint was doing trying to look as if he wasn't in searing pain, Phil knew. He knew, and he wanted to stop it so much that he could hardly breathe. "Clint," he said, hoping to draw the man's attention away from the blood and away from Victor. He knelt down, not daring to move in closer no matter how badly he wanted to. "Look at me."

Clint's blue eyes, still full of resistance, met Phil's. The archer hoped quietly that the eye contact was as reassuring to Phil as it was to him.

Victor chuckled at the exchange. He sobered for a second as Loki's orders not to do permanent damage filtered through the impending frenzy. The flash of annoyance at the idea that he wouldn't get to hear Coulson scream in horror while he ripped Barton's guts out faded quickly when he realized he'd been given free reign to do just about anything else. His powerful hands bore down heavily on the archer's shoulders, pinning him down as he leaned over the man to whisper in his ear, "That's right. Look at him."

Clint shuddered as he felt Victor's hot breath against his neck, his fingers digging into the hard, rough floor of the cell. He tried to keep his expression neutral as he watched Phil, but he could barely hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. He remembered feeling Loki pressed against him in a similar way, the god looming behind him as he gave himself freely... Something warm and wet against his wounds jolted Clint out of the memory only to draw a shudder of revulsion from him as he realized Victor was licking the blood from his back. Clint couldn't hide the panic he felt, not anymore. "Please... don't..." he rasped, squirming helplessly under the hulking mutant.

Phil gritted his teeth. He wanted more than anything to lash out. He didn't let himself. It wouldn't work out well for him, and it probably would've worked out even more poorly for Clint given the fact that Victor's attention was fixed so firmly on him. Instead of screaming or throwing himself at Creed and hoping to buy Clint a few seconds, he repeated, "Look at me, Clint. Please, look at me." If he could have promised anything to get Clint free, he would have in that moment. Torture had never been particularly effective against him. Pain, he could endure. Seeing Clint terrified and helpless was something else. "You're going to be okay. I promise that you are going to be okay."

Victor chuckled softly, relishing the way his toy shivered underneath him in response. He was getting to Coulson. That was what he ultimately wanted. "Maybe you should beg," he growled, one hand moving to the back of Clint's neck, his thumb stroking idly through the man's hair as he stared at Phil. "Maybe if you really make me believe it, I'll use you first."

Clint redoubled his efforts to squirm away from Creed, gritting out a, "No!" between his teeth. "Phil... Phil, don't. Please. Not for me."

The mutant laughed, barely seeming to register that the lithe, powerful form underneath him was doing it's best to unseat him. "This is fucking touching. Do you two rehearse this shit?" He gave Clint a light shake. "I'm just deciding who I use first. Not which one of you gets used."

Phil had no idea how much time would be enough. How long would it take SHIELD to figure out where they were and get there? Coulson wouldn't allow himself to doubt that it was going to happen, but that didn't make a timeline any easier to put together given that he hadn't the faintest idea how far they'd traveled. For all he knew the alien gadget had flown them halfway across the world. "Don't touch him," Phil finally grated out. He knew it wasn't exactly a smart decision, but he knew that it was better than watching Clint tortured. It was better than letting one of Loki's flunkies violate him after everything he'd already been through. "Please, I'll do whatever you want, but take me first." He chose his words carefully, mindful of the fact that Creed had made it clear they were taking turns, not getting off the hook. The more placating he could be, the better it would sell. "Just tell me what you want me to do."

Clint felt the weight lifted from him as Victor stood, but panic set in yet again. The feral mutant was stalking towards Phil now. Like Phil, the archer had no idea how much time they needed, but he was determined to buy them every minute he could. More specifically, he was going to buy it for Phil. Bruised, lacerated, and sore, Clint still pushed himself up off the ground as if it was nothing and lunged at Victor's back.

The archer was skilled in hand-to-hand, nimble and lightning-fast. The problem was, he had no real way to hurt Victor. Even with the man in a sleeper hold, Victor's throat lodged firmly between his bicep and forearm, he could feel himself losing. When Victor's adamantium-laced skull snapped back into Clint's forehead, the man dropped like a fly, his ears ringing as spots floated in his vision.

The mutant laughed, watching Clint shift on the ground, obviously trying to get back up. "I'd stay down, little man," he said, closing in on Phil as he spoke, pressing himself to the agent's back. "You should be awake for this." One hand slid up Coulson's chest, pulling him back against Victor as he breathed in the man's scent.

It made his skin crawl. The closest thing that Coulson could find in his mental library to relate the moment to was a big dog jumping on him when he was a little boy and slamming him to the ground. Of course, the dog had only wanted to play, and it had backed off the second its owner asked it to. Victor wasn't on anyone's leash but Loki's, and Coulson knew better than to expect mercy from that corner. So instead he tried not to gag at the feeling of Victor's breath on the back of his neck and the man's heavy body against his own. Considering the fact that he'd been looking forward to sharing most of his free time in Clint's bed in the not too distant future, reality was encroaching in a particularly offensive fashion. At least facing the wall spared him from seeing Clint's face. Silently he prayed that Clint would just stay the hell down and prevent any further damage. If they ever did find themselves with an opening, he wanted them both to at least be capable of movement. 

Subdued, Clint shoved himself up, leaning against the cell wall and trying to let the cool surface calm him. He was pretty sure he'd just narrowly avoided a concussion. Seeing Victor pressing Phil against a wall, though, made it hard for him to just sit there. He worried with the cuffs on his wrists, but they were something bizarre and obviously not of earthly origin, as he couldn't even find a hinge or seam in them anywhere.

"Nothin' smart to say?" Victor hissed in Phil's ear, tugging his shirt open and sending buttons flying. "Don't feel like telling your fucktoy that he's gonna be okay? Or maybe that you'll be fine?" He laughed quietly, nipping roughly at Phil's neck. "Wonder what kinda sounds you'll make when I fuck you."

The words left Clint fighting to breathe. It was like a punch in the gut, realizing how helpless he was. He started to push himself up, but an overwhelming wave of dizziness and nausea put him right back on the floor.

"He knows I'll be fine," Phil answered evenly, wishing he'd taken some of his time earlier to follow Clint's example and at least get his hands in a more serviceable position. He'd let himself get distracted, and they couldn't afford stupid mistakes like that. He tried to keep his hands relaxed, tried not to telegraph the tension that he felt since he knew that would only entice Creed to further cruelty. "I'm not a blushing virgin and haven't been for a pretty long time." It was tough talk, and everyone in the room knew it, but it had to be said. Clint needed to know that he wasn't giving up so that Clint wouldn't give up either. They needed to share their strength. "I'm a little put out about the shirt, though. It was pretty nice."

Victor smirked, his hand running over Phil's exposed chest. He paused a moment to shrug off his long coat, leaving him in a black shirt and jeans. "You've got a lot of guts for such a little shit. Lot of spirit." His claws ripped through the back of Phil's shirt, leaving the tatters of it hanging from the agent's arms. "It's gonna be fun to break you," he growled, pressing close to Phil, grinding himself against the man's ass.

The ringing in Clint's ears was subsiding, his vision clearing. He leaned against the wall, letting the cool surface soothe his wounds. He tensed as Victor tore Phil's shirt away. He wanted to scream at Victor to leave his handler alone, scream at Phil for drawing Creed's attention to himself in the first place. Instead, he watched, jaw clenched. He knew that doing anything would just fuel the fire. //Goddammit.//

It was becoming more and more difficult to pretend that Creed didn't have a chance of succeeding. The man was honestly terrifying, and help was likely to be too far away to be any particular help to them. Not until they were in bad shape. Phil rested his head against the wall and did what he could to breathe evenly. The solid weight of Creed was an uncomfortable dose of reality. "Better men than you have tried. And gods for that matter."

"Well," Victor said, his fingers hooking over the waistband at the back of Phil's pants, "I'm not talking about killing you. Yet." No need for either of them to know he'd gotten orders not to. He pressed in close, dropping his voice so that Clint couldn't hear him. "I was thinking more I could fuck you. Then you can watch me play with your little archer friend. And then I could slowly tear him apart while you listen to him scream for mercy. Think that might do it?"

Clint shifted nervously, torn. Things were escalating, and he had no idea what to do. No scenario that came to his mind ended in anything but one or both of them just getting hurt more. The archer wasn't sure he could handle what was happening right in front of his eyes, though.

"Giving up on all the fun we can have just the two of us?" Phil pressed. He didn't want Creed to touch him. He wanted less for Creed to touch Clint. He'd read enough about Clint's time with Loki to know there were some files even he couldn't tolerate reading all of. If there was a chance he could keep it from happening again, he'd take the gamble. "I'd hate to think you're already disappointed."

Victor chuckled, a chilling sound. "You don't get to manipulate me, suit. I'm in control here," he rumbled, using thumb and forefinger claws to snap the button off of Phil's slacks and then hooking his finger over the zipper to push it down. He leaned most of his weight against Phil, pressing him hard into the cold wall. His breath puffed harder against Phil's neck, his cock beginning to press against his captive's ass. Tangling a clawed hand in Phil's hair, he tugged the man's head to the side and bit hard into the join between his neck and shoulder. He wanted to make sure that, when he finally left the two alone for awhile, the archer had something to remind him quite specifically of who had been using Coulson.

Clint was on his feet in a second, then fighting to keep from throwing up a moment later. The blow to his head had definitely taken its toll. He staggered and leaned back against the wall, trying to keep from hyperventilating.

Phil grunted at the pain of the bruising bite. He felt the man's teeth tear into flesh enough to draw blood and winced. He honestly hoped it didn't scar because he had no great desire to spend the rest of his life with reminders from both Loki and Creed. Assuming the rest of his life involved living long enough to get a scar from an injury. At the sound of Clint's groan, he tried to turn only to find himself too harshly pinned to manage it. "Clint, stay down." The man was hurt, and the last thing Phil wanted was for him to hurt himself more for no real gain. "I'm... I'm fine. Sit."

Clint wavered. He could hear the pain in Phil's voice, the slight shake. He knew his handler was scared. Phil didn't get scared without a good reason. Forcing himself to compartmentalize the moment, the archer willed himself to sit. It was an order. 

Victor smirked as he heard Clint settle back to the floor. "Got him trained, haven't you?" he murmured, shoving Phil's pants and boxers down to his knees. He heard Clint shift again, and his face darkened. "You know, I don't like the feeling I'm going to get interrupted." He stepped back, then pressed Phil more firmly against the wall again. "Stay."

Clint barely realized Creed was moving before he was hauled roughly to his feet. He had to fight back another wave of nausea as he was dragged to the front of the cell. One of Victor's hands held him roughly by the hair while the feral mutant undid his cuffs only to latch them to the bars of the cell.

"There. Don't want you interfering with my fun. You'll get your turn. And I don't want you all banged up before then. Besides, you'll have a better view from here."

Clint shivered, watching Victor move back to Phil. Creed was right about that; he could see much, much more than he wanted to now. Unwilling to let it break him, he carefully caught Phil's gaze, hoping that the eye contact would give the man some reassurance.

Victor pressed in close to Phil once more, unzipping his jeans and grinding himself against Phil's ass. His other hand slid up the back of Phil's head, pressing his face into the wall. "You're gonna feel good. I bet you're nice and tight."

It was hard to feeling anything but sick. Phil met Clint's gaze just long enough to let him know it was appreciated and then looked away. It was one thing being humiliated and degraded by a piece of dirt like Creed. It was worse being used in front of Clint. Of all the people who could have been there... but, then, that seemed to be the way the universe worked. He swallowed hard and fought back panic. Panic led to tension, and extra tension would make things more painful for him and more fun for Creed. That was the last thing that he wanted. Awful as the idea was, the longer Creed took with him, the longer things were drawn out, the longer it would be until Clint had to suffer through the same thing. The only things he could think to say would make the situation worse for him and likely for Clint too, so he held his tongue and tried to focus on not puking. The least he could do was try to respond in a dignified fashion to a completely undignified situation.

Victor smirked, running his hands over Phil's sides, letting claw marks raise angry red welts along the man's flanks. "Gonna make you mine..." he breathed, running his tongue along the ridge of Phil's ear.

Clint gritted his teeth, looking away. "You son of a bitch," he grated out, yanking worthlessly against his cuffs.

The mutant just chuckled, looking over at Clint and watching the man twist worthlessly against his bindings. "Mmm... he's flexible," Victor whispered conspiratorially in Phil's ear. "I see why you like him." Shifting, he let his cock press against Phil's ass, giving his prisoner just enough time to think about it before he pushed forward.

 

He'd intended not to make a sound. He'd intended to keep entirely silent. The pain had other ideas, and Phil gasped at the sudden shock of absolute, tearing agony. His hands clenched behind his back, trapped against Creed's body, and he had to fight against every instinct that told him to grab onto Creed and tear at any skin he could reach until he ripped the man completely open. Given how quickly Creed healed, that wouldn't do much. Gritting his teeth, he managed under his breath, "Doesn't matter what you do to either one of us. I'm not yours."

The sound of pain made Clint redouble his efforts, but all he got for it was bloodied wrists, and he finally subsided when he felt warm fluid trickling down his forearm. He didn't look. He knew better than to look. He already wanted to puke, and he knew he wouldn't be able to handle the memories of seeing what he knew was happening a few feet away. //I'm sorry, Phil...//

Victor snorted. "You will be. Because you're gonna remember this. You'll never forget it," he growled, groaning as he slowly worked himself into Phil's body. It was a tight fit, and the near total lack of lube didn't make it comfortable. But that wasn't the point.

Phil's breath was ragged despite his best efforts to control it. It hurt too much for him to relax properly, which only made the pain worse. He prayed that Clint wasn't looking but didn't dare look himself to be sure one way or the other. He just wanted Clint to be okay. He wanted not to hear what Victor was saying and not to be forced to acknowledge that the man had a point. He wouldn't be able to forget it. He couldn't do that. //But I can live. I can live through this, and so can Clint.// Phil clung desperately to that idea and tried to let it be the light in the dark.

Victor took his time, doing everything he could to draw any sounds he could from his victim. It wasn't easy. Phil wasn't as soft as the mutant had expected, but that just meant he'd be more fun.

Clint shivered at the sounds, curled up with his face resting on his arms as his stomach rolled. He wished desperately he could clap his hands over his ears. Hearing Phil whimper in pain while Victor whispered filthy things and moaned was enough to make Clint want to scream. Rage and desperation swirled in him, and he squeezed in tighter around himself as he tried to shut out reality.

Victor didn't take long to get himself off, his claws digging into Phil's hips as he came, growling his pleasure. As he finally stilled, he smirked, nipping at Phil's neck and drawing away. With a smirk, he unfastened Phil's cuffs and tossed the key on the floor beside his captive. They didn't need to be cuffed to keep them from escaping. "I'll be back for him later," he said, jerking his head toward Clint. He gave Phil a smack on the ass before slipping out of the cell.

 

Clint barely registered being freed until he heard Phil settle on the floor. Slowly, he edged over to his handler. Clint barely registered his own injuries as he gently ran a hand down Phil's arm. He wondered a moment later if the man would even want to be touched. It was impossible to keep from trying to offer comfort, though. Seeing Phil look so hurt and shaken was entirely foreign to Clint, and they'd seen some truly hellish ops together. "Boss?" he whispered hesitantly, his own voice sounding ragged and foreign to him.

It was a long moment before Coulson found his voice. He knew it was shock, but the intellectual knowledge of that did very little to help. Honestly it was hard when he wanted to drift away. Losing touch with the world for awhile sounded like heaven. Finally Clint's hand on his arm came into focus along with the vibrant red of the chaffed skin, and he reached up, taking Clint's hand and realizing the tatters of his shirt were still hanging from his wrists. Phil elected to ignore them for the moment and clutched Clint's hand in his own shaking one. "Don't hurt yourself," he choked out. "He'll hurt both of us plenty. Don't hurt yourself, okay?"

"Shh, it's okay. It's okay, Coulson. Phil. You'll be alright. We'll be alright," Clint soothed, trying and only partially succeeding at keeping the tremor from his own voice. It was like getting punched in the throat to see the man so traumatized. It was hard to breathe, to think, but Clint made himself. Phil needed him to keep it together, because his handler was obviously struggling with that right at the moment. Clint gently slid his hand behind Phil's head and leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. "We're still alive, and we're gonna get out of here eventually, so we have to hang on, okay?" He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, unsure if he believed the words.

"Okay," Phil agreed reflexively. Hearing Clint's voice and feeling the solid warmth of the man's hand in his own made it easier to think about the reasons why he needed to hang on, why he needed to stay in the present even if it was tempting to drift away from the moment. He carefully released Clint's hand to unfasten the cuffs of his shirt. It felt silly to have them on. He threw them on the floor and stared at the fabric for a moment. A deep breath. Another. Finally Phil's head began to feel a little more clear, and he allowed himself to actually look at Clint and read the fear there. "Okay," he repeated despite the long moments that had passed since Clint actually spoken. Reaching out, he pulled Clint in, touching their foreheads together again. "I'll be okay. You'll be okay. If there is anything that I can say or do to keep him from hurting you... anything, I intend to do it." 

Clint trembled a little as Phil seemed to come back to himself. The archer was likely tougher than Phil in a fight, but when it came to holding together emotionally, his handler was the strong one. Phil was the one that kept his cool when missions went to shit. Clint only kept his cool when he absolutely had to. With Phil seemingly having collected himself, Clint buried his face in the man's chest, shaking all over. "Don't. Don't do that again. Not for me. It's not fair, dammit. I don't want him hurting you to be my fault," he said as tears finally spilled over. He knew Phil had meant well, but Clint would have rather been in Phil's place than left tied up to watch it happen to someone so dear to him.

Phil's grip on Clint tightened as much as he dared, held him fast and willed his own trembling to stop. "No. Listen to me, Barton, this is not your fault." He threaded his fingers into Clint's spiky hair and closed his eyes against the feeling of Clint's tears. He hated Clint hurting. He hated that he couldn't fix it or protect his lover. "The only person responsible for this is the asshole who just left." Phil sighed softly and kissed Clint's hair. "I need to do whatever I can to protect you. When we get out of here, if I'm whole and sane, it's going to be because you're getting out with me. It's going to be because you're okay."

Clint looked up at the sound of his last name and Phil's commanding tone. It seemed to have clicked something over in his mind. Panicking wouldn't do them any good, much as he wanted to have a total meltdown. It felt better to have Phil's hands on him, to be pulled in close, to know that they were together at least. They'd held each other similarly the night before, in Phil's bed, and it hurt all over again to think about it. "Okay." He swallowed and took another, deeper breath as he sat up a little, pressing himself more fully against Coulson. "Alright, we get out together." He sighed and looked around the cell. It was bare, save for a rough-looking toilet, a scuzzy sink, and some mats that were obviously intended as a place to sleep. "Not the best options to get us out of this mess."

 

"We've dealt with worse." Carefully Coulson pushed himself up to stand again. It hurt like hell, but he was at least starting to feel more in control of himself if not the situation. "I know I can't exactly ask you to step into the next room, but I need to get cleaned up." And assess the damage as best he could, but that didn't really need to be said when he didn't really want to think about it. He waited until Clint got the hint before making his way over to the sink. The discarded shreds of his shirt were useful for the process, at least. There wasn't as much blood as he'd worried there would be but more than enough to bring up fears of things like infection in addition to the pain that would almost certainly get worse before it got better. He didn't feel better by the time he made his way back over to Clint, but at least he felt cleaner. Leaning back against the wall, he reached for Clint's hand. "I think I'll live."

Clint had patiently waited while Phil cleaned up. He didn't want to see the damage, and he respected that the man wanted to keep what was left of his dignity. As Phil took his hand, Clint managed a faint smile. "Yeah, you don't get a choice in the matter. You know that, right? No more dying on my watch." He leaned in, hesitating for a moment before he pressed a soft kiss to Phil's lips, his fingers trailing lightly over his handler's jaw and neck. He felt the feverish skin next to the bite Creed had left and winced, looking at it. "Sorry! I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Though there had been a flash of discomfort, Phil shook his head. "No." Whether it hurt or not on a physical level, the affection and Clint's gentle touch soothed him more than anything else in the world could have. "This is good. I wish you weren't here, but only because..." Because he wasn't sure he could handle Creed turning his attention to Clint. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing it or hearing it or knowing that he couldn't stop it. Instead of panicking, Phil drew Clint into a careful hug. Creed already knew how they felt, and he was going to use it. There wasn't any point in hiding. Phil wanted every last bit of comfort they could draw in the meantime. "This helps. Knowing you still want to do this helps."

"I couldn't handle not being here. It was hard enough with Tash," Clint murmured. He took a second to shrug off what was left of his shirt and used it to create a bandage for the bite wound. It wasn't the most sterile bandage in the world, but he felt like it would be cleaner than the cell they were in. That done, Clint wound his arms around Phil's waist and pressed close to him, trying to ignore the smell of their tormentor on the other man. "And of course I still want to do this. Besides, all the times you stuck around and watched over me after I got banged up in ops? No way I'd leave you by yourself." Clint didn't have family or anyone else to worry over him. Phil and Nat were the only ones who ever had.

"Still nice to know." Phil honestly wasn't sure how to explain it. He knew that until he had a few hours to do nothing but scrub off several layers of skin, he wasn't even going to feel halfway down the road to normal. It was hard to realize that Clint still looked at him with such affection when he wasn't in the mood to be around himself. The feeling of Clint against him was warm and reassuring. It was the strongest reminder of the need to survive he could ever hope for. He considered saying a hundred different things and let them all go. It wasn't their last chance. They weren't going to die, and he wasn't going to tell Clint Barton he was in love with him while there was so much other baggage attached to it. They deserved a better memory and a better time. "I don't suppose you've acquired any new ninja skills involving taking down walls with nothing but floor mats and shredded shirts?"

"I was still working on that one when the call came, boss," Clint said with a faint smile. He did his best not to think about what was going to happen when Creed came back. He couldn't decide if it was more terrifying knowing that he was at the top of the menu or that Phil would have to witness it. Trying to keep his nervousness in check, Clint sighed quietly. "You think we should try to sleep? I mean, not that I like the idea of him sneaking up on us, but I think we'll be better off if we're rested."

"Yes, we should. We have water, but no food yet. The more energy we conserve, the better rested we are, the better chance we have of getting out of here." Coulson led the charge over to the mats. They looked filthy, and he doubted they were anymore comfortable than they looked. He dragged them together and carefully lay down. Only when Clint was settled in against him did he allow his body to relax at all. Coulson curled his arm up around Clint's form and molded himself against it. "Get some rest, Barton. The world will still suck in the morning, but at least we're together."

Clint smiled grimly even though he knew Phil wouldn't see it with his head pressed to the man's shoulder. He held onto his lover tight, trying to give comfort as much as take it. Years of experience had taught his mind and body to take sleep where they could, and the archer soon managed to drift off.

The next thing Clint knew, he was quite literally being dragged from his sleep. Creed had him by the ankle and was tearing him away from Phil before Clint could even get a bearing on where he was. He'd kicked the mutant in the face before he really remembered where he was and got a bead on what was happening. 

Victor laughed gleefully as the archer fought against him, taking the kicks and strikes with no real measure of discomfort. "Feisty. I'm in the mood for feisty," he said, pulling Clint toward him, flipping him onto his back, and kneeling across his stomach. "Have a good night?"

Phil jumped up and was ready to fight before his body had time to register that doing so hurt like hell. It didn't stop him from remaining tense and poised within reach of the pair. "Slept like a baby," he answered, breathing heavily from the shot of adrenaline but maintaining a perfect poker face. It wasn't the time to show just how bad things were inside. He clung to the idea of their eventual escape and his eventual and inevitable opportunity to tear Creed limb from limb. In the meantime, it was about the two of them maintaining enough strength and sanity to survive it all and come out on the other side. 

Clint squirmed. "Aside from the lousy wakeup call, it was fine," he grated as Creed tried to secure his arms. The archer's flexibility and speed kept Victor at bay for a few moments until the mutant seemed to get tired of the game and slammed his hands down on Clint's shoulders, pinning him down. The marksman grunted as the wounds on his back were pressed unpleasantly against the rough floor. He met Creed's gaze and fought back panic. 

"Much better," Victor rumbled, pressing one hand and all his weight into the center of Clint's chest, holding him down as he brushed the backs of his claws against Clint's cheek and watched the man shudder. "Responsive." He glanced up to Phil and smirked tauntingly. "Bet I could play him like a violin, sensitive as he is."

Phil supposed that a lot of them had a blind spot when it came to more intimate contact. Standing up to torture was one thing, finishing off a fight with a broken leg or ignoring someone sticking knives under your fingernails. It was different ignoring someone who wanted something so much deeper and more personal. It was still about power, but it wasn't really something most of them encountered. Natasha probably knew a hell of a lot more about it than either of them did, and the thought of that just made Phil feel queasier. He stared Creed down without flinching and allowed himself a moment of pride at the fact before he looked to Clint instead, Clint who he'd held all night and still couldn't adequately protect. 

Clint's gaze fixed on Coulson like the man was the only thing holding him to reality as Creed seized him by the jaw. Clint's hands rose to pull uselessly at the arm restraining him, his breath hissed through his nostrils as he fought to stay calm. He could feel the mutant's free hand sliding gently down his bared torso, the touches gentle and familiar rather than the harsh groping Clint would have expected. It reminded him of the way Loki had touched him, and Clint squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered softly.

Victor chuckled quietly, watching Clint's face. "That's right..." His tongue flicked out over his lips. He glanced up at Coulson. "Much more responsive than you were. Have you fucked him yet? Just wondering if I could get the same sounds out of him that you do."

Phil said nothing, though he suspected he'd tensed enough at the question to give himself away. They hadn't been given time to enjoy that particular luxury yet, and Phil was definitely regretting that they'd decided to take things slowly. He regretted even more that anything that happened between them in the future would be tainted thanks to Creed. He regretted that he'd have to wait to see what it felt like to flay the mutant alive. Since it definitely bore repeating, Phil tried for a calm tone as he said, "It's going to be fine, Barton. We're going to get through this." 

Clint bit his tongue, hoping the pain would distract him from the touches. Phil's voice filtered through a moment later, and he latched onto that mentally. When it was over, Phil would be there for him. That was all that mattered. The feel of Creed's tongue dragging across one of his nipples made him arch and tense and claw at the hand holding him down. The archer bared his teeth and made a strangled sound of protest. Reflexively, he started to beg Creed to stop, but bit the words back, knowing they'd just encourage the mutant. Bright blue eyes fixed on the ceiling as he felt his pants tugged away, and Clint did his best to breathe and think of anything but what was happening.

Creed managed to touch him in ways that were unnervingly gentle, ways that would have been enticing if the situation had been different. Their captor even saw fit to gently tease him open as opposed to the brutal way he'd taken Phil, managing to draw a few involuntary whimpers and gasps from Clint as he fucked him slowly. Clint kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling, not wanting to associate any of it with his lover, hating the idea that Phil even had to be there for the assault. The archer felt overwhelming relief as Creed finally finished with him, leaving with only a few mocking words for Phil.

Clint shuddered, rolling up to all fours and puking up what little was in his stomach. He stayed there, eyes squeezed shut, shivering as he tried to keep from breaking down completely.

It hurt like hell to watch Clint suffer. The whole ordeal had been painful. Phil had spent it sitting with his forehead on his knees and his arms curled around his legs. He didn't want to see. It was bad enough hearing the moans and gasps, some of them pain and some of them even more disturbing to consider. As soon as the cell door closed, he uncurled and reached out to soothe a hand over Clint's back. He drifted away to grab the leftover shredded parts of his shirt and rinse them with the water, passing one into Clint's hand so that he could wash his face off and holding the other for the rest of the cleaning that Clint would likely want to do. "Breathe for me, Clint. Just hold on."

Clint had flinched a little at the touch before remembering it was Phil. He edged away from the puddle of what was mostly bile and took the rag, wiping his face down before taking the other rags from Phil's hand and moving out of his line of sight to clean himself up. He tugged his pants back on and slowly sank to the floor next to his handler. He opened his mouth to say something, then gave up, whimpering as he pressed his face to Phil's chest, his arms winding tightly around the man's waist. He'd barely thought of the way Loki had used him when he'd been abducted, had almost managed to forget, but Creed had torn that wound open and added fresh ones to go with it. "Phil... I can't," he rasped as tears rolled down his cheeks. "I can't do this. I can't do this again." With Loki, he'd submitted, offered himself up, even begged. He'd always assumed that it had all been the influence of the tesseract, but the way Creed had... "We have to get out of here."

"We will," Phil assured firmly. "We will." He held Clint close and kissed his hair, wiping away the tears with one hand. Though he didn't know how he'd do it, he promised, "If there's anything I can do to keep him away from you, I will." Perhaps because of what Clint had already been through or perhaps just because he was more Creed's type, he presented a more enticing target. It killed him that he could do so little. Their best bet was a SHIELD team coming to get them. Their second best bet was the man in charge giving them a reprieve. Something told him Loki wasn't all that likely to release them while they were still of entertainment value to one of his own toys. Seeing Clint stripped down made him remember all to vividly the withdrawn, uncertain man Clint had been for awhile after Loki took over his mind. He still remembered with a chill the realization that Barton had been compromised. He knew how he'd felt hearing it, and he couldn't fathom going through it. Even being tortured by Creed, at least he'd been in control of himself and his reactions to a degree. "Whatever happens, I'm right here with you, Clint. We're in this together."

Clint nodded, still trembling but reassured by the fact that Phil was still there with him. "Just don't... don't throw yourself on a grenade for me, alright? I can live with him-" Clint's voice failed, and he took a breath. "I just don't want you getting hurt more for my sake." His voice had a stricken tremor to it, but he sounded certain nonetheless. "Just... just be here for me. I just need you to be here and be as okay as you can be." Phil had always been his anchor. Even before they'd actually met in person, the man's voice had been a reassurance when missions had gotten ugly, when he'd needed a place to hide and someone to talk him to the nearest safe house. There was certainly a reason he'd been drawn to sleep on Phil's couch whenever he'd had a rough day or a bad dream. Clint was pretty sure that if Coulson completely broke down, he wouldn't be far behind.

Though it physically hurt to say it, Phil sighed and promised, "I won't do anything purposefully. Protecting you is kind of my hobby, though, in case you haven't noticed. It's hard to turn off." He continued stroking Clint's hair, willing the man to calm himself, to breathe, to let it go for a moment. He needed to relax. They both did. They needed to block it out. When they got back, they could fall apart and talk to a shrink and hide from the world, do whatever they needed to do to really process it. In the meantime, Phil intended to keep Clint plastered against his side as much as possible and try to pretend they were safe. "Just be right here, right now. Right now, you're with me. In this moment, you're safe, and I'm here."

"Okay," Clint said, letting himself melt against Phil's form. He tried to keep it out of his head, but there was little to distract him, and the archer finally started to shake with silent sobs, clinging to his handler. After several long minutes, he finally pulled himself together, sniffling quietly. Taking a deep breath, he muttered, "Be right back," thickly and moved to the sink to wash his face off. Feeling vaguely more together if not necessarily better, Clint settled against Coulson, all but adhering himself to the other man once more. "Thank you," he murmured. "For being here. For always being there." Remembering when they'd thought Phil dead, he hesitated. "Well, as much as you could be."

Phil's eyes closed at the words. He knew exactly what Clint was thinking. He'd thought about it himself. Stupid as it was considering Clint's capabilities and the fact that someone just as competent would have replaced him, the thought of Clint and Natasha going out in the field and never being there to back them up still woke him up at night. He supposed he just wanted to feel needed and useful, but it was also the idea that anything could happen. Anything could happen to Clint, specifically, and he needed... he just needed to be there. Quietly, Phil confessed, "When we get home, it might be awhile before I can be more than a few feet away from you and feel comfortable."

Clint couldn't help but smile a little at that. He burrowed a little closer to Phil - if that was even possible - and pressed his lips to the man's throat. "I think I'll be alright with that, considering I don't think I'll be okay with us getting separated, either." He shifted, looking up at Phil before leaning in to press his lips to the other man's. He stopped a second later, though, brow furrowing. "It... it's okay, right? I mean, I know that..." Creed had certainly upended the idea of intimacy for him for a good while, but the mutant hadn't kissed him. A small mercy. Clint felt comfortable doing that much right then, and he was hoping Phil would feel the same, but he realized that all things considered it might be a bit much. "If it's too much, just tell me."

"It's perfect," Phil answered, cupping Clint's face and returning the kiss, gentle and undemanding, something sweet and pleasant to remind them both that there was more out there than what Creed was capable of. "I'm not going to let him take this way from us." They had just found one another on a romantic level. It had been huge for Phil to allow himself the luxury of connection. Until he'd started talking to Clint, he hadn't realized how long it had been, how many years since he let someone in that close. "Kissing you, holding you, being close to you? That's not something I'm going to give up."

Clint nodded, feeling relieved. He pressed his head to Phil's shoulder, trying to focus on being with his lover even as flashes of what Creed had done to him flickered through his mind. Clint felt himself shiver a little. Some of it had actually felt good, much as he hadn't wanted it to. He knew Phil had probably heard him moan a few times, and that as much as anything made him burn with guilt. Clint took a deep breath, trying to bring himself back to the moment. "I... I'm sorry. About... I'm sorry you had to hear. I'm sorry," he managed, unable to quite articulate what he was thinking.

Though it was instinctive to answer at once, Phil took a moment to think instead of how to answer. It would be a lie to say he hadn't been bothered, and he frankly didn't want to lie to Clint. Instead he said, "I don't think you enjoyed it," the words calm and careful and sure. "Clint, just because he's capable of modes other than brute force and cruelty doesn't make it consenting. You didn't want it, you didn't ask for it." He stroked Clint's hair since he knew how soothing the man found the gesture. They both needed to be soothed. "This is on him, not on you. I hated hearing it, yes, but only because the idea of anyone hurting you makes me sick."

Clint nodded, gladly taking solace in the touch. "Thank you," he whispered, voice rough and shaky. He knew it was an odd sentiment, but he'd needed the reassurance on a level he couldn't quite grasp. He'd wanted it to be Phil. He'd wanted it to be the man he was pressed against in that moment to be the first one to have him like that in years. "It was supposed to be you."

Phil couldn't really stop the tears that came to his eyes at the admission. He held Clint a little tighter. There was nothing they could do to change what had happened, not a damn thing. He let his eyes close and then shifted so that he could kiss Clint gently on the lips again. "It was supposed to be you too. And when we're ready, whenever the hell that is and however much therapy that takes? It will be you. The first time in a long time that it will matter, it will be you."

Clint nodded slowly, reaching up to stroke rough fingertips over Phil's cheek, wiping away the tears. "It's a date, then," he said, daring a small smile in spite of his ragged-sounding voice. He leaned up and stole another chaste kiss. It was reassuring, familiar, and reminded him not at all of what had just happened to him. "Swear to god, if they let me out of here and tell me we have no way to kill Loki, I'm stealing that hammer and turning him into chunky salsa by myself."

Though he still felt a thrill of fear at the thought of what the hammer might do to Clint, Phil nodded. "Agreed. At this point, things that end with him being in tiny, mashed up pieces are an acceptable risk." He was sure as hell not letting anything happen to Clint, but he was going to live to see Loki die. That was only fair given that the god had been responsible for his death and now his torture. Worse, Clint's torture on more than one occasion. "Actually, I wonder if we can get Fury to tell us how he brought me back so we can kill him more than once. I think that might make me feel a little better."

Clint smiled grimly, the thought a solid bit of reassurance for himself as well. "That'd definitely make me feel better. Especially if I can use him for target practice a few-" The sound of the cell door opening froze Clint's blood in his veins. He tensed, shoving himself to his feet, looking ready to fight as he put himself instinctively between Victor and Phil.

The mutant just laughed, holding out the transporter. He sobered quickly enough, though. "You two are gettin' outta here. Sorta." He eyed Clint up and down, smirking when he caught the faint twitch in response. "Don't look so excited. Loki's not lettin' me have a goodbye fuck. Shame, too. Would've liked to make you moan a few more times." Without giving the two a chance to think it over, Creed grabbed them both and activated the transporter.


	8. Acquiesce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony realizes Loki's motivations may not be quite as anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Loki/Tony. The consent is a bit less dubious this time around. Contains more character study than smut, actually. I was surprised too.

Not sure of what he was doing or why he was doing it, Loki stalked down the hall to Creed's room and knocked firmly on the mutant's door. It was a small sign of respect, but one he knew he needed considering what he was about to ask.

Victor woke from a sound sleep, frowning and wondering who the hell it could be. Loki never knocked, and no one else had the nerve to bother him when he was in his room. Wearing nothing but his pants, Victor opened the door to find Loki in the same state of dress and looking... well, blue. The mutant tilted his head at the god, raising an eyebrow. "Something I can help you with, boss?" he asked. He wanted to ask about the god's change of skin tone but figured it was one of those things best left unmentioned.

"I sincerely doubt it," Loki answered with the faintest trace of a smile on his lips, "but I'm afraid I'm going to ask something of you anyway. Well, not ask so much as inform you of a change in plans." He waited until Victor seemed properly focused before informing him, "We're releasing them. The captives. SHIELD may not come for Stark, but they'll come for those two. I'd rather they be left somewhere to die of exposure quietly and without our involvement before that time comes. Take the transport device and leave them somewhere. I honestly don't care where, just see that it's done before the night is out. We're tempting fate as it is."

Victor scowled. "Can I keep the archer? He was fun." Getting a threatening glower from Loki, the mutant scowled but nodded. "I'll have 'em out of here as soon as I get clothes on." He smirked at Loki. "Call me?" he teased before ducking back into his room to change.

Loki stalked his way down the hall. He wasn't going to tell Stark. There was no point. The man likely wouldn't believe him anyway. It didn't matter. He just wanted to spend one night not feeling the weight of something he couldn't put a name to pressing in on the back of his mind. Stark was in the room waiting, as was the safest course of action for him. "Forgive the interruption. I needed to see that Creed wasn't being too hard on his toys. Restraint isn't exactly one of his sharpest skills."

Tony had to shove back the cold swell of fear the words inspired. He didn't ask about them. Loki seemed set on keeping his promises in his own weird way, and Tony felt safe assuming they were alive. Details he didn't want. "Considerate," he said, trying to keep his bluff in. He wasn't sure how much Loki could read off of him, if the god could see his worry for his friends. The billionaire had tugged his pants back on in Loki's absence but hadn't bothered with anything else. He'd settled into Loki's armchair, managing to nibble at the food a little more. "So are you gonna keep turning bluer?"

Loki flinched at the words, unable to check the reaction, and snapped, "Yes, I believe that I will continue turning blue as it seems to be what I've been doing since you shot me with that stupid gun." He stated pacing and finally stopped and whirled on the mortal lounging in feigned comfort. Loki knew how out of sorts Stark was whatever the pretense. "Perhaps this will serve me well. The mutants have looked to me as a useful ally but certainly not one of theirs. This may yet help me find their good graces."

Tony shrugged. "Or they'll just wonder why you're turning colors," he pointed out. He tilted his head. He hadn't missed the flinch. "So, why not just cover it with an illusion? I mean, if you can turn into..." He swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence, and looked away. "Point being, you could just cover it up if it bugs you that much." His voice tensed a little as he added, "I mean, if you can do it while you're fucking me, it must not be that tough to do, right?" He knew he was pushing buttons, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. He'd promised to do what Loki told him to do. He'd said nothing about being nice, and Tony wasn't any more above playing semantics than Loki was.

"Oh, I can hide it well enough." A moment's thought and Loki's skin looked as normal as ever, pale but unmarred by any trace of blue. "As it turns out, however," the blue faded back in, "even I balk at the idea of spending every waking moment hiding behind a mask. You'll notice I was only willing to wear the good Captain's face for so long." Loki stalked over to Stark, glaring down at him. "At the moment, neither one of us knows what you've done with that weapon. For a man who seems so adverse to the idea of death, you seem ever eager to wake monsters."

"I did poke Bruce Banner with a taser once," Tony admitted, looking up to give Loki a faint smirk. He tilted his head. "Aside from the fact that you look like you just got dragged out of the freezer, I'm not seeing a big difference. I mean, you're still being you in all your charming glory. You haven't tried to eat my eyeballs or anything uncharacteristically horrible. Most of the horrible things you've done so far have been par for the course."

"No, I suppose nothing worse than usual," Loki agreed. He couldn't keep some humor from creeping into his expression despite the situation. He didn't know if anything apart from his skin would change, but the idea of it terrified him. It wasn't vanity so much as the idea of losing any parts of himself. Loki had learned long before that the only person he had to trust in the universe was precisely the man slowly changing before his eyes. To describe it as uncomfortable was selling things short by a great deal. "I don't think that frost giants eat people if that's any comfort to you. Your virtue may still be in peril, but I think your vital organs should rest easy."

"Well, that's reassuring," Tony said, raising an eyebrow at the god. He tried to hide his discomfort at being reminded that he was there for Loki's entertainment. He hadn't missed the flash of amusement on Loki's face, and he found himself hoping to hell that it was because the god found him amusing, and not because he was plotting some other way to mess with his head. "Hate to think you were after my heart. Didn't work out so well for you last time."

"No, it didn't. I recall it was distinctly painful in the end. As it turns out, having a Hulk may indeed trump having an army." Even an army of mutants, judging by how well their encounters had gone so far. Loki reclined back on the bed, making himself comfortable, and then looked over at Stark still seated in his chair. "It's interesting: you obviously don't like me, you're angry with me, but you don't seem to hate me. I'm fairly certain that you should." Certainly everyone else seemed to. What made Stark an exception?

"Stockholm syndrome?" He shrugged, thinking for a moment. He hadn't really thought about it, but he really couldn't find it in himself to truly hate Loki. He looked back up at the god as it slowly dawned on him why. Loki wasn't the monster that he feared becoming. He was broken, lonely, and lost. He didn't have a place in any world. For all his godlike powers, he was actually kind of pathetic. "Guess it's hard to hate someone you pity. They kinda cancel each other out."

Loki flinched at the words and sat up straighter. "I don't need your pity, Stark." Fury swelled inside him. That was what it had come to: pity from the creatures who should have feared him. His gaze strayed down to his skin, and Loki found himself laughing instead. Perhaps he did need the pity. It was better than no one thinking anything of him at all. "What does it say about you that you're the prisoner of someone you can't even bring yourself to truly fear?" He held out a hand. "Come here."

Tony hadn't missed the rage that flashed across Loki's face, and the laughter that followed it didn't make him much more comfortable. When the god beckoned him closer, he had to remind himself forcefully that he didn't get to say no. "Maybe you don't realize this, but I can be terrified of you while I feel sorry for you. Bruce also kind of terrifies me on his off days," he said, forcing himself to climb onto the bed next to his captor. 

"I should imagine so. You're not too stupid to realize that he could kill you one day, and yet you keep him." Loki shook his head as if he was utterly unable to understand what SHIELD was thinking. It boggled his mind to think that anyone would purposefully keep around a creature that could destroy them. It had hadn't served Thor well, after all. Reaching out, Loki ran a hand down Stark's arm, curious to watch his reaction. This time he couldn't pretend it was Rogers. He was wearing his own face. "Then again, I suppose I haven't exactly thrown Creed out of bed either, so perhaps there's something to keeping a pet monster in the house."

"Bruce is ki... ind of a cool dude, too," Tony said, his voice catching as Loki's hand ran down his arm. It was all he could do not to recoil completely, but he couldn't stop himself from shifting the limb away from the god's touch. His heart rate picked up, and Tony wasn't sure if it was fear, revulsion, or the fact that it was kind of enticing that made him want to pull away. //You're just desperate for comfort,// he assured himself. He latched onto the comment about Creed and brought all of his snark to bear in hopes of keeping himself calm. "Yeah, you know, Bruce is house trained, though. Big plus," he said, swallowing hard. It had been a lot easier to do what Loki wanted when he could easily pretend it was Steve fucking him into the mattress. Tony wasn't sure how well he'd hold up when it was just Loki being himself.

Loki hummed a sound that might have been agreement. "Creed is difficult to control. Unpredictable. It can be exciting, of course... and tedious." He still wondered how a man like Magneto could put up with the mutant's shifting moods and hair trigger temper. He'd caught a flicker of something when he touched Stark and pressed the advantage by moving in a bit closer. "I may not yet be crazy enough to appreciate him to the fullest extent." Loki leaned in until his lips were a breath away from the mortal's. "How crazy are you?"

Tony barely dared to breathe, afraid he'd whimper or gasp or make some other sound that would give away the tension he was feeling. He wasn't entirely sure of the source of said tension, but with the god so close, the answer was getting clearer, and Tony didn't like it much. He wasn't sure if it was desperation or just his tendency to act more idiotic than usual when he thought he was going to die soon, but he found himself more tempted than repulsed by the come on. "Guess I must be pretty crazy," he breathed, voice trembling as he panted softly. With that, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Loki's, his heart hammering in his chest from a mix of fear and excitement. 

The move caught Loki entirely by surprise. He actually froze for the briefest of moments, utterly baffled as Stark's lips collided with his own. He had expected a fight, resistance to the end. Instead he found himself kissing an apparently willing Tony Stark. The man's lips softened against his own. Stark was kissing him. It was unmistakable but still startling enough to take even him by surprise. Loki didn't let his shock stop him from pressing into Tony's personal space and taking advantage, however, his cool fingers rising to trace Stark's jawline.

Tony tensed at the touch of the slender fingers and the feel of Loki shifting closer to him. Fear and fascination and uncertainty rattled around in Tony's head as he drew away, heart fluttering in his chest. He'd halfway hoped it would be a little more comfortable if he made the first move and took that little bit of control away from the god. Instead, he was starting to wonder if it had been a mistake. Loki had shown vulnerability moments before, some of which had made Tony drop his guard a bit, but the god was manipulative, good at pretending, and good at getting what he wanted. Tony wasn't sure if it was his own interest or if he was being played, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "What are you doing to me?" he asked softly, sounding almost as if he were simply wondering aloud.

Curious at the question, Loki tilted his head and studied the man intently. "Nothing. This time, Mr. Stark, I believe that you kissed me." He was beginning to see that it had been more an issue of testing the waters than desire, but it didn't change the fact that Tony looked more conflicted than he should have if that were the only thing happening. Despite himself, it seemed that Tony was intrigued at the very least. "Your mind is your own. I suppose there's no reason for you to take my word for it, but it's true." Loki leaned in again but stopped shy of kissing the man at first. "It isn't so bad, is it?" he murmured before closing the gap again. Stark tasted of the sweet apple he'd been eating, the juice clinging to his lips. Loki wasted no time in licking it off.

Tony tensed, his hand rising reflexively as if to push the god away, but instead his fingers rested lightly on the soft fabric of Loki's shirt. It wasn't bad. At all. In fact, it was kind of good, which just wound Tony a little tighter. His fingers curled into the green cloth beneath them, and even Tony wasn't sure if it was to hold Loki in place or push him away, but he did neither, instead hanging on for dear life... or perhaps sanity. His mouth finally yielded to the contact, letting the tongue dragging across his lips dip into his mouth and gently sucking on it. 

Though he still wasn't sure why, he was sure that Stark was giving in. He was relenting willingly and without any artifice or pretense that he was with someone else. Loki wasn't his lover, and Stark knew it, knew that Rogers was hundreds of miles away and might as well have been farther since the man thought him dead. Loki questioned none of it openly. He let his hand curve to the back of Tony's neck and relaxed into the moment. He wanted to use his own tricks of seduction and his own preferences this time, nothing of trying to play at Rogers' dominance and straightforward passion. Loki let the hand not holding Stark's neck slid up beneath his shirt to trail delicately up the man's back.

Tony felt gooseflesh rise on his arms in response to the touch, the contact seeming to go straight to his groin. He broke the kiss with a soft gasp. It was an incredibly simple touch, delicate and small and unassuming. And it was all it took to make Tony understand that the god could play him like an instrument. It was intriguing. Tony knew he had no way of getting back to his true love, and killing that pain with a little bit - or a lot - of pleasure was starting to not sound so bad.

Loki read the warring emotions in Tony's face without any great difficulty. "You don't need to look so worried. Even if your compatriots were to swoop in and rescue you, there's no need for them to know any of this." He smiled, his bright blue gaze dancing with amusement. "Our little secret," Loki whispered as he leaned in for another lingering kiss. Stark wanted him, and he didn't want to feel that way. That was fine as long as he didn't let his higher nature talk him out of having a good time. They both needed it in entirely different ways. In one fluid motion, Loki went from sitting next to the man on the bed to climbing onto his lap, arms draped lightly over Stark's shoulders.

Tony let out a harsh sigh as Loki settled across his lap, his hands instinctively settling on the god's hips. Dark brown eyes rose up to meet chilly blue, and Tony knew that there was no going back at that point. He wanted desperately to think he'd somehow been bewitched, but he felt too much like himself to really believe that. "Our secret," he muttered, wondering if he'd even be able to hide something like this from Steve. Deciding it was a moot point anyway, he leaned up for another kiss.

Loki shifted slightly on Stark's lap. The kisses they shared were languid and almost gentle at first. For the briefest of moments Loki allowed himself to enjoy a fantasy of his own, the idea that the man was there by choice and honestly wanted him. It was at least half true. While his lips pressed to Tony's, Loki's fingers pushed the mortal's shirt up his torso. He broke the kiss just long enough to get Stark free and then dive in once again.

It was easy to feel the carefully restrained strength in Loki's form. While the god was probably no physical match for the likes of his brother, against a mere mortal such as Tony, he was formidable. At least as strong as Steve. Fingers trembling from either arousal or nerves - Tony still wasn't sure which - trailed up under Loki's shirt, and he was pleased to find defined yet lean muscle underneath. His hands slid up to trail over the tops of Loki's hips, resting there as their tongues dueled. The god was incredibly skilled at kissing, his tongue stroking against Tony's in ways that made him tingle in all the right places. It was easy getting lost in the sensations, and Tony found himself humming his pleasure against the god's lips.

Loki thrilled at the sound, at what it meant. It was a sound of desire and, thus, of surrender. Breaking the kiss for barely a breath, Loki drew his tunic off and tossed it aside before recapturing Stark's mouth. Loki had often wondered how mortals managed any real skill when it came to sex with so few years in which to learn it all. His pants riding low on his hips, Loki rocked himself against Stark. He was only half hard, the arousal building slowly. The entire scene was oddly quiet and gentle considering his normal trysts.

Tony let out a soft, shaky moan at the friction. Like his partner, the mortal's arousal was building gradually, but the god had a way of touching and moving that still managed to draw light jolts of pleasure and soft sounds of the same from him. //Jesus, he's good at this,// Tony reflected, his hands sliding over the long, lean body before him. He broke the kiss to move his lips along Loki's jaw, down his throat to his collarbone. As Tony licked and sucked at the pale, blue-tinged flesh, his fingers followed the lower line of his partner's abs down to his waistband, teasing at the barrier of fabric lightly.

Eyes fluttering momentarily closed, Loki still reached out and gripped the hem of Tony's shirt. He tugged insistently and, when it still wasn't off fast enough, tore himself away fromStark's questing lips to jerk the man free of the shirt. His eyes were a shade darker than normal, expression intent as he took the view in. It was different, somehow, seeing Tony bared willingly for him. He rose for a moment, slipping gracefully from the bed and slithering free of his pants before rejoining the man on the bed. "Perhaps you should consider doing the same," he suggested in a smooth whisper.

 

Tony hesitated for a moment, taking Loki in. The separation had been enough for him to think about the situation for a moment. He was giving himself over to a creature who had captured him, tortured his friends, killed hundreds, and was going to kill him. He couldn't quite bring himself to stop, though. With the idea in mind that he should enjoy what little he had left, Tony kicked his pants away and then reached out for the lithe, pale form before him. He wanted to forget all the things that had just crossed his mind, wanted to get lost in the sensations he knew Loki could elicit. 

Loki returned to the man's grasp readily. He wanted to be touched, found himself aching for it when he caught sight of the desire in Tony's eyes. Mortal or not, Tony was lovely and pleasantly distracting. He groaned as he straddled Tony's lap again and their bare cocks rubbed together. "There's plenty of oil in that bottle on the night stand. I suspect you know precisely what to do with it." Their roles had been reversed before to accommodate what he presumed were Steve Rogers' preferences. Loki had other ideas, ideas that involved riding Stark until he screamed.

Tony groaned and arched his head back at the skin-to-skin contact, his breath leaving him in a low groan as their cocks slid nicely against one another. He stared dumbly at Loki for a moment, admiring the look of arousal on the god's face, trying to absorb what he was saying. When it finally sank in, he nodded and grabbed for the bottle, slicking his hand thoroughly. Oily digits trailed down Loki's lower abdomen before wrapping first around his cock and then around Tony's. The billionaire didn't know for sure what Loki had planned, but he was willing to make some leaps based on their current positions. Grasping the god's lean, tight ass with both hands, he pulled Loki forward, rocking his own hips up to let their slicked cocks glide against one another. He leaned up for a kiss, making sure he had Loki's attention fully before letting his well lubed fingers glide between the god's buttocks, testing the waters.

Loki gave the faintest nod, shifting against the man as he kissed Tony almost gently. There wasn't any affection in the way he treated the man, but mutual desire was just as good sometimes. For once he could simply savor the contact with no bruises or wounds to nurse later - not that he minded them. He rather enjoyed them sometimes, but there were moments where he wished for something soft and a bit less harsh, and it seemed that Tony Stark of all people was willing to offer that. "I won't break," he whispered against Tony's lips. Loki followed the words by licking his way back into Tony's mouth and swallowing the soft moans that escaped the mortal.

 

Tony let his instincts guide his actions as he sucked hungrily at Loki's tongue. He was surprised at the gentle treatment. Loki could have been as rough and brutal as he wanted, but instead he was offering his prisoner pleasure. Tony let his fingers dip lower, finding Loki's entrance and stroking at it lightly. When the god made no protest, he slowly pressed one finger in. The digit slid in easily, but Loki still gripped him tightly, and Tony moaned a little louder into Loki's mouth, his free hand running up and down Loki's back.

Loki let out a sound best described as a purr of pleasure. His hips undulated sinuously against Tony. He was determined to put the man in mind very clearly of the skills he would bring to bear on the action to come. "Much better," he agreed with a lingering kiss to punctuate the praise. By the end, Loki wondered if he could succeed in making the man forget his ties to his fellow Avengers for a few moments. //Perhaps tomorrow I'll tell him that he has no reason to do this other than his own desires.// The god smiled at the thought and licked a long stripe along Stark's throat. "You're gorgeous when you give yourself to me."

Tony shivered and whimpered softly, and he wasn't sure if it was the thought that he was playing right into Loki's hand or the sensation of Loki's hips moving so fluidly against his own. He wanted to rebel, to tell Loki he could go to hell or whatever passed for it in Asgard, but he had nothing to lose by doing what he was told and pleasure to gain, as well as the vague recollection that he had to do what he was told to protect Barton and Coulson. If he was honest with himself, that was becoming a secondary motivation at best. "Feels good," he murmured, voice rough with arousal as he worked a second digit into Loki's body. The god had perfect control, opening up easily and then squeezing down around Tony's digits in a way that made him feel certain Loki could make him lose his mind with pleasure if he chose to.

Loki laughed softly. He could almost see Tony's thoughts in the way his eyes darkened and his breath caught. He wasn't thinking of Rogers, at least not for the moment. His thoughts were most definitely otherwise engaged. "One more, and then I think I would very much like to ride you." Letting Stark take control had a certain appeal, but he wouldn't trust the mortal with the task at first. Better to set the pace and show Stark how good it could be before he attempted to let the man have his own way with any of it. "Then I may consider letting you show me whether it's worth letting you take the reins."

Though the quiet laugh had driven a chill through him, Tony moaned at the thought, pressing his lips to Loki's chest. "It would be," he replied before he caught himself. It was reflexive, and that was almost a terrifying thought in an of itself. The idea that he had already given so much of himself to his captor was unnerving, but giving up some of that resistance made it that much easier to not think, to just feel. Shoving the worry aside, he kissed his way over to one of Loki's nipples, latching onto it as a third finger sank into maddeningly tight heat. Tony suckled at the nub in his mouth eagerly, his nearly jet-black gaze rising to Loki's face as he let his teeth lightly graze the flesh.

Loki let his head fall back at the sensation. The hint of pain was slight, but enough to make his heart pound faster. Normally he might have insisted on more, but there was something rather lovely about the languid pace they'd set so far. He hated to muddy the waters when he could get a fast, hard, dirty fuck just as well from Creed with no manipulation needed. Better to let the night be something different. "It is pleasant to know that your mouth is good for more than just talking." When Loki looked back down at the man, his usually chilly blue eyes were a darker shade of midnight blue. "We'll have to test that further later."

 

Tony shivered at the feeling of that darkened gaze upon him, the possession there. Part of him bristled at the idea of being used as nothing more than a toy, but that part of him was getting quieter with every graceful shift of Loki's body. The god felt too good to deny. Tony hadn't missed the effect he'd had on his partner, and he tugged lightly at Loki's nipple with his teeth before shifting to the other one, dragging his tongue across the hard nub before covering it with his mouth. His fingers pressed a little deeper into Loki's body, questing for that one perfect spot inside him.

About the time Tony's teeth caught on his nipple the man's fingers also found the mark. The effect was immediate and electric, a shudder running through Loki's body and a needy moan escaping his lips. He wasn't playing things up for effect, but he wasn't holding back either. He wanted Stark to know just how good it felt. All of his skin had taken on a faint, powder blue tone with darker patches slowly creeping in. There were odd lines threading through the whole of it, an underlying pattern emerging on the surface. Loki's lips parted, and he slowly smiled. "I almost hate for you to stop, but I rather like the thought of what you'll do next."

 

Tony smoothed his free hand over Loki's skin, tracing a few of the lines as he wondered what the change meant. He nipped at Loki's chest, letting his nimble tongue flick against one of the god's nipples before he withdrew his fingers and grasped Loki's hips and his own cock.. He tugged at the god, guiding him forward as his eyes drifted up to Loki's face. "Ride me. Please," he added as an afterthought, his voice barely above a whisper.

Loki didn't bother to reply. He simply shifted to hover for a moment above Stark, their eyes locked before he began to lower himself. At first he let Stark feel only the possibility but then put more weight behind the movement and sank slowly down. The muscles of his thighs strained as he kept the motion as slow as possible. His own body rebelled against the pace, begging for more, wanting to take it all. Finally Loki relented for the sake of his own sanity - or whatever was left of it - and let his hips come to rest against Tony's with a sharp gasp. Loki's nails raked across Stark's chest and his muscles clenched around the mortal's cock as he found himself finally filled.

Tony arched and gasped at the feeling of Loki's nails digging into him, but he surprised himself by moaning as the pain and pleasure mingled. His hands moved to rest on the god's hips, and he rocked up into the clenching heat with a shaky moan. "Yes... need it," he breathed, pulling himself up to kiss Loki's throat, his hands sliding up the god's lithe back as he nipped harshly at the god's bluish skin.

The feeling was mutual, although Loki was loathe to admit as much. He didn't need mortals. He didn't need anyone. He found himself understanding all too quickly, however, why Rogers was so attached to the man. As he truly began to move, Loki heard himself moaning as he found just the right angle. It was easy to pretend that he was simply using Stark for his own pleasure and a bit harder to believe as he strained to hear the same sort of sounds from Tony, as he idly reached up to flick the man's nipples and then bent to lick his neck.

Tony arched his neck into Loki's mouth, his chest into the hands teasing his chest. The mortal muffled his soft sounds of pleasure against Loki's skin until the god's tongue dragged against a sensitive spot, drawing a long, low moan from him. He gasped an affirmation and let blunt nails rake down the god's back as Loki rode him. Tony was amazed by the visceral response Loki's moans drove from him, the genuine pleasure the god seemed to be drawing from the encounter. 

The drag of the mortal's blunt nails sent fireworks of pleasure singing through him. Loki threw his head back and gasped, then met Tony's gaze again. Those black eyes were gorgeously wicked, and he sighed. It would be an easy addiction to cultivate, having Tony Stark at his beck and call. "Do you think that you can be trusted to get us both to the edge, Mr. Stark?" The words were meant to be a challenge. He knew well how Stark responded to challenges, had watched him enough to spot that pattern without even trying. 

 

It took Tony a moment to realize what he was being asked, but when he did, he gave the god a wicked smile. "I know I can," he murmured, hands clasping on Loki's waist as he bucked his hips upwards. He knew Loki was manipulating him a little. A lot. It was getting easier and easier to not give a damn, though. Loki touched him in all the right ways, and it was just as intoxicating to watch the god squirm when Tony did something right. //Speaking of which...// He gave Loki's neck a few sharp nips as if to drive the point home.

Loki purred at the touch of Tony's teeth. It was almost gentle as such things went, but enough to excite him. His hips jerked in the mortal's strong grip. "You may be worth my time at that," he chuckled. Stark seemed to have let go any hesitation for the time being. It was entrancing to feel him at work with so many of the walls surrounding Tony lying crumbled around them.

Tony gripped Loki's hips roughly, more than aware by then how much the god appreciated some pain. He guided Loki's hips, doing his best to thrust up to meet the movements, trying to strike that perfect spot inside his partner's body. Tony could feel himself getting close, and began pressing kisses, bites, and licks in equal measure on any skin he could reach, worshiping the god in the only way Tony Stark was ever going to. He watched Loki's face closely, all but forgetting the odd cast to the god's skin as Tony found himself beginning to moan with each shift of Loki's hips.

Loki made no effort to hold back. He let Stark guide things, let him take charge, but didn't stop moving or clutching his muscles around Tony's cock to milk every last shudder of pleasure he could from the mortal. Even if the man got back to his lover, Loki wanted to be sure that the encounter was one that would remain embedded in his mind. Finally he guided one of Stark's hands to his cock and rocked back harder into his each thrust. It felt like it took no time at all before he came hard over the mortal's chest, though the burning of his thigh muscles suggested otherwise. "Your turn." Loki held fast to Stark and managed to flip their positions with surprising grace, leaving Tony on top. "Give me everything you have."

It didn't even occur to Tony to pull away from the god. He was too far gone to think of anything but how fucking gorgeous Loki looked when he came, how good it felt to be buried in the god's hot depths. Tony shifted back a little, his hands clamping onto Loki's slender hips as he started thrusting hard, holding nothing back. It took little more to drive Tony over the edge, and he cried out unreservedly as he came hard. As the orgasm passed, Tony slowly relaxed, sagging to one side of his partner, panting with nothing but bliss on his face as he savored the afterglow.

Loki hadn't expected Tony to be able to give in so thoroughly with Steve Rogers lingering in the back of his mind, but it seemed that Tony Stark was a flexible sort of a man in more ways than one. "I have to admit," he finally said, gaze raking over Stark's naked, glistening body, "that you are rather wonderful at that." Leaning in closer, he whispered in Stark's ear, "Perhaps later I can show you a bit more of my skills as well." Loki wondered whether Stark would remain so enthralled in the aftermath, in the quiet moments when he finally had a chance to examine what he'd done.

Tony shivered at the feeling of Loki's breath against his ear, the promise in the god's voice. His jaw clenched as he slowly forced himself to remember that this was reality. He briefly considered pressing himself in close to the god just for the sake of comfort, but he doubted that would be tolerated. He'd gotten all the 'comfort' from Loki that he was going to. "Well, it better be pretty mind-blowing," he returned, hoping his captor had missed him flinching. Tony was disgusted at himself on a lot of levels, but at the same time it was hard to hate himself too much. //Gonna die, right? Might as well go out having fun considering the other option is endless pain.//

Loki chuckled and rolled onto his back next to the man. "As if it would ever be anything else with me." He clucked his tongue at the implication despite not sounding terribly offended. He didn't take lovers often, but that just meant that he felt it was even more important to make the time count. Of course, with the exception of Creed, lately it seemed that all of his lovers remained so only by some form of compulsion. Loki sighed heavily and let his eyes drift closed. "You will find that when I choose to be, I can be a worthwhile partner in more than one sense."

Tony was wiping himself off with his discarded shirt, and he paused at the words, arching an eyebrow. "More than one sense?" he asked hesitantly, unsure if he wanted to know. Well, Tony had never much heeded warnings regarding curiosity and cats. He wasn't a cat, after all. "What other sense are we talking about, here? Because if you're looking to get a piece of Stark Industries, you'll have to talk to Pepper Potts."

"Nevermind," Loki replied, waving the words away as though they didn't matter. He rarely said anything inconsequential, but Stark wasn't likely to ever let him close enough to know whether it was true or not. Even if he did, his friends never would. It was stupid to think of it. Thor had never trusted him or put in any true faith in him. Frigga had, perhaps, for a time, but even her dreams had ultimately been hung on Thor's shoulders and not his own. "It's nothing for you to worry about, Mr. Stark."

Tony had risen from the bed as they spoke. He really wanted to get in the shower, but now his interest was piqued, and he was rarely inclined to let go of things that made him curious. He thought a moment, watching the god. "You're talking about an alliance. Joining the Avengers. I thought you'd talked yourself out of that already." He cocked his head at Loki. "You should probably figure out a plan for that if that's the idea. One that doesn't involve being manipulative, because I'm pretty sure Romanov is better at that game. And probably sooner over later. They may not risk everything to come get my dead body, but I'm pretty sure you've made them mad enough that they'll do whatever it takes to drop that creepy ass hammer of yours right on top of you."

Loki's expression sobered, and he studied the man's face. Though the words were at least partly mocking, that was simply Stark's way, he had come to realize. The mortal rarely said ten words in a row that didn't involve some sort of dig. It wasn't unwarranted, and thus it wasn't very troubling. "And what if I have one? If they get my brother back - and I find myself doubting that there's any other outcome - then I know the path that they will choose." There was no real warmth in the smile that lit Loki's face. "And I'm the only person who can fix the problems that it will cause."

The smile gave Tony goosebumps. He hadn't thought of something, obviously. "What kind of problems?" He knew that Mjolnir's evil twin had had an ugly effect on Barton, but Tony couldn't imagine it being much of a problem for Thor. He knew there was no real reason for Loki to explain that to him, but Tony was hoping the Asgardian would feel compelled to brag a little, especially to someone who he planned to kill before the Avengers ever got there. "You can bet they'll hand that hammer to your brother, not Barton."

"They could, but it would do him no good." There was no real reason to lie since he intended to tell the Avengers what was going on in any case. There wasn't any other way to come through it alive. Unscathed was too lofty a goal to strive for, but he hoped at least to live. "The hammer has bonded to an owner. Had I retrieved it, holding Barton would have served an additional purpose. I would have been obliged to kill him to be able to wield the weapon fully myself. As it is... well, as it is, he and Agent Coulson have been gone for hours. They're probably home by now."

Tony froze as the implication settled in. He'd been throwing himself on Loki's whims to protect two men who were well beyond the god's reach. "You son of a bitch," he hissed, swallowing against sudden nausea. "You manipulative son of a bitch!" It was all Tony could do to restrain himself from hitting the god. He knew it would do no real damage. Something else occurred to him, then, and he felt the blood drain from his face as he sagged against the wall. "Guess that means you're done with me, then," he said, trying not to sound as hopeless as he felt. Loki had just given up his leverage over Tony, and the billionaire hadn't forgotten the god's promise to dispose of him once he was no longer useful.

Loki rolled his eyes at the dramatic response. "Honestly, and I thought my brother overreacted to everything." He rose from the bed and crossed over to stand in front of Tony. "At the moment, it's in my best interest to have something that the Avengers want. I'm sure that they'll want what I have to offer, but I don't know that it will be enough to buy my life back. Having you... well, even your body is worth something to them, I'm sure, but I confess that I've rather enjoyed you having full use of it." He reached out to touch Tony's cheek, smirking at the way the mortal flinched. "You won't die by my hand. Not yet, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah, strangely not why I'm flinching," Tony grated out, taking a step back from the god. "Not to sound like I'm trying to talk you into not killing me, but I'd say you'd definitely have a marginally better chance of them not killing you if they find out you kept me alive." He moved toward the bathroom, adjusting the water for himself. He felt a stab of fear as he slid under the water, realizing he might well have to explain what had happened to Steve.

Loki let the mortal go. It was enough for the moment. Stark needed to compose himself, and he needed to consider his next step. He could bargain for his life alone, or he could ask for more. Asking for more would require a show of faith beyond helping Barton. It would mean giving them Stark whole and mostly unharmed. Just letting Coulson and Barton could would mean nothing, especially after what he suspected Creed had done to them. Even if the Avengers were willing to take him in on a trial basis of some kind, it would mean creating a whole new host of enemies in the Brotherhood, who likely wouldn't appreciate being abandoned. //They have to learn to be less trusting sometime.//

Feeling slightly better for having showered, Tony stepped out of the bathroom with a fairly ragged-looking towel wrapped around his waist. He was starting to feel hungry again, but pride kept him from asking for food. Knowing Loki had far less leverage on him was serving quite well to give him more of his old defiance back. Instead of asking for clothing, Tony settled in the ragged wing-backed chair that was obviously for Loki and casually propped his ankle on his knee. "Figure out how to convince them you're really not an asshole yet?" He smirked at the glare he got. "I mean, giving me back's a start. Alive. And saving Barton from the hammer. You might also want to apologize to Phil."

Loki rolled his eyes but finally allowed, "I suppose it would be the political thing to do." He hated apologies. Making them to his father as a child had always been an exercise in tedium because, frankly, he'd rarely felt bad for the thing for which he was apologizing. With Frigga it had been different. She would fix him with a look of disapproval, and he'd crumble. There was a reason he'd left Magneto to watch her, and it had little to do with the man's strength or skills. He gave Tony a long look before sitting down on the bed. They were past the point of a true struggle for dominance, save a verbal one. Kicking the man out of a chair would have been both petty and ridiculous. "While killing him was certainly more practical than personal, you have a point."

Tony’s flippant demeanor disappeared, and his eyes narrowed as his expression darkened. "Practical? You could've disarmed him. Or just disappeared. You did it for fun. Because you could," Tony growled. "I saw the video. You enjoyed it. If you really think you're going to be part of the Avengers, you need to get it through your head that we're more than just insects for you to step on when it suits you. Especially considering that we 'insects' have managed to upend not just one but several of your plans."

"You know, it wasn't my plan," Loki ventured while wondering whether his words would even mean anything to Stark. "The invasion was being orchestrated by people far above my pay grade. When I fell from Asgard, I had to find my own way. The company I found was... perhaps it was precisely the sort of company in which I belong," he allowed with a slight shrug, "but it was not good company. The Chitauri were puppets, and so was I." Before Tony could protest further, Loki met his gaze evenly. "I won't say that I didn't enjoy it. I did. You may be right - perhaps killing Agent Coulson wasn't practical, perhaps it was personal, but not for the reasons you believe. Hurting him was collateral damage. I wanted to hurt my brother, and at the time, it seemed it was fairly effective toward that end."

Tony's jaw muscles flexed as he stared hard at the god for several long moments. "So, what about now? Still wanna hurt your brother? Rule the world? Or just a world? Because you're not going to get that with the Avengers. You might have to save the world a few times. Maybe even from people who have the same ideas you did. But you're not going to get to step on any more ants." He paused and snorted in amusement. "Well, I guess you've got one chance left. But since you need me to help keep the Avengers from killing you outright, I guess I'm not much of an option, either."

"My priorities are... shifting," Loki allowed carefully. He was walking a thin line, and being honest with Stark was more difficult than he'd anticipated. The lies had become an armor of sorts. Going without them was almost physically painful. "I think it's becoming painfully clear that whether I deserve to rule or not, my brother is the only one who will ever sit upon a throne. What I want, Mr. Stark," he grated out, "is to stop running. I'd like to enjoy myself even if it means following a rule or two this time. To put it simply: I'm tired. I'd thought that this... the Brotherhood and the borrowed technology, that it would... but it doesn't make a difference, does it?"

Loki finally smiled and leaned back against the pillows, one brow arched. "I know you think very little of me, but do you honestly think that I'd kill a man who is so damn good in bed? That would be a crime."

 

Tony felt his gut clench at the mention of their tryst, and the anger drained from him almost instantly as he averted his gaze from the god. "Yeah, well, don't bet on a repeat performance. I'm kind of taken, if you didn't notice." Realizing that Loki did, indeed, have one last bit of leverage against him, Tony looked up at the god. "You're keeping your mouth shut, though, right? I'll tell him when it's time. If that time comes." Tony wasn't sure how he'd possibly explain it to Steve. It wasn't as if Loki had really fooled him. He didn't have that excuse. Especially not the second time. The only thing he had was that he'd thought he was going to die, and Tony wondered if Steve could find it in his heart to forgive so flimsy an excuse.

Loki considered that request and finally nodded. "To put it simply, I'll need an ally. You need my discretion. We both know it's not my usual policy to be the least bit discreet, but since it's a skill I should consider cultivating... well, this seems as good a time as any." He clasped his hands and leaned forward, gaze burning into Tony's. "I won't ask you to lie, but I would appreciate it if you mentioned that I haven't harmed you since you came here as a captive. I somehow doubt Barton will be willing to give quite so glowing a recommendation, so even the smallest vote of confidence is better than none."

"Well, I can vouch for that. I guess." It wouldn't be entirely true, but he supposed that was a matter of opinion. Loki hadn't technically forced him to do anything. Manipulated the hell out of him, yes, but there had been no force. He tilted his head at the god. "The really weird part here is that it doesn't actually feel like you're trying to manipulate me again. Then again, I guess you don't have to." He gave Loki a hard stare. "Just remember one thing: you leak my secret, and the Avengers are gonna get a very different story from me. True or not."

Instead of looking angry, Loki laughed at the threat and smiled with some real warmth. "I think I'm beginning to like you, Mr. Stark. I will be the absolute picture of discretion, have no fear. Captain Rogers will hear nothing of it from me. You may wish to give the same admonition to Logan. From what his brother says, he's likely to know regardless." Loki let the words sink in and shifted to sit at the edge of the bed once more, fingers steepled and arms braced on his knees as he leaned forward to address Tony. "I am endeavoring to be sincere. Honest, even. It is not my natural inclination." The god's expression clouded. "But I am earnest in my desire to find a new way of doing things even it means attempting to be polite to my brother... as long as that doesn't come up often."

Tony snorted. "As long as you two don't insist on fighting in the back seat on long road trips, I think we can manage." It was almost amusing to picture in his head: Loki and Thor sitting at opposite ends of a cafeteria table, asking each other by proxy to pass the salt and so on. "I think a squabble between the two of you might break New York." He fell silent for a moment. He'd forgotten about Logan. According to the mutant's file, he had a nose far more powerful than a bloodhound's. No real hiding anything from him. Then again, Logan also seemed the sort to let other people take care of things on their own. Tony doubted he'd have to say much. "I mean, I'm not really polite to anyone, but they put up with me somehow."

"Oddly enough, polite I can do. My manners are impeccable. I just have a tendency to enjoy..." Loki searched for the proper way to say it. "I enjoy stirring things up. When the surface of the water is too calm, I find it frustrating. I want to see what's underneath, so I throw a stone in." He inclined his head. "You're not so different, you've just been more judicious. Smaller scale chaos. I think I can learn to enjoy that. I hope that I can. Thankfully for you, I'm also rather terrible at transparency, so you've no need to worry over your secrets." Loki smiled and leaned in a bit closer. "Would you like to hear one of mine in return? An insurance policy of sorts?"

 

Curiosity more than a desire for reassurance overrode any sense Tony might have had about such an offer. It was still Loki, after all. //Here's hoping it's not something I don't wanna know,// the billionaire reflected, cocking his head a little at the god. "One of your secrets, huh? Sounds valuable. I'm all ears," he decided, subconsciously leaning forward a little. He wondered what Loki could possibly be willing to share with him, especially considering the Asgardian was all smiles about it.

Loki wasn't surprised that Stark wanted a bit of mutual leverage, though he was almost surprised that the man agreed so eagerly. "Did you ever wonder why I never struggled with my brother for power when I was younger? We were the best of friends growing up, always close, always together. We were different from one another, but I always rather thought we complemented each other." He searched Stark's face but found no ready answers. "No, of course not. No one wonders why the villain became the villain." 

He sat back a bit, still apparently unconcerned to be lounging undressed in front of the mortal. They were well beyond modesty so far as he was concerned. "I never fought for power because I thought that in the end we would share it, that we would rule together. For years he came to me night after night, and I thought... I foolishly thought that one day it would stop being a secret that he hid and become something more. Once I stopped lying to myself, began asking for what I wanted, the visits stopped too. I couldn't lie to myself anymore, and I realized that the only one who would ever defend me against his ridiculous friends or fight for a place for me was me. My brother had no intention of doing more than using me when it was convenient, and so I decided to return the favor."

Tony was speechless for a moment, which for him was more or less equivalent to an average person staring with their mouth hanging open in shock. "You and... Damn," he said softly, feeling earnestly sorry for Loki. He searched the Asgardian's face, and it dawned on him just how vulnerable the god looked, lounging nude in their shabby surroundings. "If SHIELD heard me say this, I'd probably get put on some kind of list, but I can definitely understand why you'd be a little pissed." He wondered what Thor's side of the story was, but obviously he wasn't going to get to ask. "I would've thought your brother would be a little more stand up than that. But it kinda explains a few things. Like why he wouldn't kill you the first time we caught you."

"Yes, apparently I'm owed enough courtesy to be left alive." His fingers curled against his thighs. "Not if he thinks I've killed you, though. None of them would hesitate at that - and most of your friends wouldn't have paused to begin with." Loki allowed, "Not that I blame them for the impulse. I can't say that I have ever been without the will for my own survival, but I can see their point of view on the matter. My idiot brother-" He winced and glanced back up at Tony. "I suppose that's not precisely the title I should use addressing him anymore." The diplomatic angle of his potential new life would be a minefield, but despite that, Loki felt the distinct stirrings of something like hope for the first time in recent memory. "But he is an idiot."

 

Tony couldn't help but have a good chuckle at the statement. Once he recomposed himself a little, he grinned at Loki. "I can't really argue that point. Your brother's pretty dumb. On a lot of levels." //Kicking you out of bed, for starters,// Tony caught himself thinking. His mind drifted briefly to the idea of the two Asgardians tangled up with one another before he refocused, wondering at himself. //Just been in captivity too long.// "You do realize you two don't have to pretend you're best friends if the Avengers accept you, right? I mean, we'd appreciate you not destroying my tower over who has to make a new pot of coffee or arguing in the middle of a mission, but aside from that...?" Tony shrugged.

Loki looked more surprised by that than he had by anything else Stark said. Slowly the look of shock faded into a smile, softer and more genuine than the ones that had come before it. "Thank you," he finally said after a long silence. "It's hardly sufficient given the fact that you have every reason to hate me and yet you... I honestly can't recall the last time someone sat and listened to me without being compelled to do so." Barton had been a rather fantastic listener, but it was part the fact that the man was compelled and part the fact that Loki was fairly certain the man spoke mostly to make jokes, and he'd been rather clear about that not being a option. But Stark was sitting there and simply talking to him. It was baffling on so many levels that Loki found himself floored by the act. "I will endeavor not to destroy any valuable property. I hope that you will take no offense if I also take great pains to avoid my dear brother as much as possible."

Tony's brow furrowed earnestly. "Considering your history, I can see where looking at him would kind of make you a little angry, so I don't think anyone would blame you. Well, I wouldn't, since I'm the only one who knows. And I'm sure the rest of them can chalk it up to sibling rivalry." He was starting to feel sorry for Loki on a pretty deep level, and that worried Tony. //Seems a little early for Stockholm syndrome.// 

"I don't want to concern you when you're being so kind to me, but you may be losing your mind," Loki cautioned with a sober expression. Between Stark listening to him, talking to him, and seeming to actually care about his well being or comfort, Loki had no idea what to do. Anger and fear and derision he understood well. He had defenses built up for all of those things. Stark's concern was something else. It was disconcerting to say the least. "When your friends come, it may be best if you stay here until I've had a chance to try to talk the Brotherhood down. If I can. They have little respect for me, and what loyalty they have to their true leader... they would prefer him back, I believe." Loki tilted his head, looking curiously at Stark. "Have you considered that they will become your enemies if I become your ally?

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Considering we're already friends with the X-Men, I have a feeling we're not exactly on their Christmas card list as it is," he noted. "And you're right; I probably am losing my marbles. What few I had. But I think SHIELD already decided I was unstable, so I'm sure it's nothing a few pills and some whiskey won't fix." //The God of Mischief thinks I'm going nuts. I thought it'd be colder when hell froze over.// "Though if you think I'm losing it, they may skip all that and go right for the straight jacket and six months of containment."

"I think anyone who doesn't threaten to kill me every few minutes is a bit unstable, so I may be a poor judge," Loki allowed with the faintest trace of a smile. "Perhaps you're simply a good person. Those tend to confuse me." He shifted and looked almost uneasy. "I apologize for what happened. Well, I do and I don't. If I hadn't taken you to bed, I suppose we wouldn't be speaking now, but it was... it was the wrong thing to do." Whether the loneliness was overwhelming or not, it really didn't excuse the action. Stark was the first person since he realized the depth of his brother's indifference that Loki thought he might find a true ally in. An apology was the least he could offer. "We've broken even on secrets we can keep for one another, but I owe you something beyond that. It is a debt I'll find a way to pay."

//Yeeeeeep. I'm definitely going nuts. Hallucinating, even. This is all a dream. Well, somewhere it turned into one.// "I, uh... okay," Tony allowed, not sure of what else to say or why he kept getting distracted by his captor's nude state. //Maybe if I could think with my higher brain functions.// "Just, y'know, don't kill any of my friends when they show up. That'd be a start. And fix whatever that hammer's done to Barton."

"I will," Loki assured, "although you may have to help me convince him that I don't intend to scramble his brain while I'm doing it." He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a fear that is not without a strong basis, but... well, in Agent Romanov's case, I can assure you it was due to her resistance, not any particular malice. I had outside requests in regard to Logan and Summers. I suppose that means I owe them apologies as well." Loki rolled his eyes and fell back against the pillows as if overwhelmed by the sheer force of politeness that might be expected of him. His expression sobered, "I'll need to go to Asgard. Briefly." The thought of the place made him ill. He never wanted to walk the halls of the palace again. "I need to tell my moth- to tell the Lady Frigga that I am sorry to have involved her."

 

Tony had to clamp both lips between his teeth to keep from laughing. He wasn't sure if it was how put out Loki seemed, how anxious he seemed to make up to everyone, or just how odd it sounded to hear him speak of apologizing for things that were really well beyond mere apologies. "Maybe you should think about taking it one step at a time. I mean, actions over words, and all. Since you tend to use words as weapons. I distinctly recall you leaving Earth last time in a muzzle, in fact," Tony pointed out. Getting a sharp look from Loki didn't seem to phase him, but he frowned thoughtfully as he took in the god once more. "But you may need to talk to her, anyway. See if she can do something about you turning blue. Or at least convince her to make sure that it isn't killing you."

Loki found himself surprised once more and laughed aloud at the sensation. "You have to stop doing that. No one..." He shook his head then rolled it against the pillow to get a better look at Tony. "I honestly don't know that anyone else will care overly much if I turn into a blue-skinned freak. Or, for that matter, if I happen to die. As for the former, I intend to conceal it... at least for now." Sitting up, he looked down at himself. It took a moment's thought to leech the blue from his skin and leave it glowingly pale once more. Loki rose and began dressing with careful deliberation. "I think I would prefer to face the Avengers clothed. You may want to do the same, though it seems a shame to cover you."

Tony had the decency to blush at that, though it really made no sense, considering the circumstances. And considering the fact that he wasn't typically the shy sort. "Yeah, guess nothing but a towel might be a little awkward," he agreed, casting about until he found his discarded pants. He tugged them on, his eyes grazing over Loki as the god dressed himself. He sure as hell looked better without - //Stop it. Stop. Jesus.// He felt his cheeks flush a little more and covered for it by searching for his shirt. "And they might really wonder about your sanity if they find you running around buck naked."

"Though perhaps an insanity defense could help my situation," Loki protested as he pulled his long coat on. He left the helmet aside. If the Avengers were coming in with guns blazing, it would do little good, and if he intended to surrender, looking more vulnerable would likely help. He took a deep breath. The reality of the situation was that if Barton had the hammer, he might not survive long enough to even ask for terms of surrender. "I'll leave the door unlocked. You're free to come out whenever you feel it will be safest. I would... I would recommend waiting until the Brotherhood is properly distracted."

Tony nodded, wondering if the Avengers would even give Loki the chance to explain. Clint certainly had a bone to pick with the god. Probably two or three times over by now. The billionaire wondered at himself again when he felt a little nervous at the idea that his friends might well just kill Loki outright. Maybe it was just seeing Loki's more vulnerable side, but Tony was definitely starting to feel somewhat sympathetic toward the Asgardian, even if he couldn't earnestly defend Loki's actions. "Just... be careful, and move slow. They're not gonna take any chances," he warned.

"I could say the same to you," Loki answered with a hint of a smile. "Take care, Mr. Stark." He closed the door behind him but left it unlocked as promised. He drew himself up to full height and took a deep breath. It was time to put the walls back up, at least long enough to try to maintain some control over the troops. Coulson and Barton would be on their way with an army of a sort, and he needed to be prepared.


	9. Unexpected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sif arrives and offers the Avengers a helping hand - and asks for one in return.

Natasha sat still in her chair. She noticed that even Fury wasn't meeting her gaze. He had been rather clear that he didn't like the idea of letting her get to their prisoners. She'd been equally clear that if he didn't give her permission, she was probably going to do it anyway. She stared a hole through his eyepatch as they sat across the table from one another, her chair positioned just slightly closer to Steve's than was strictly necessary.

Though he hadn't yet decided whether it was real or his own imagination, Steve felt like breathing was easier, at least on a physical level. He was fairly certain his face looked more fleshed out, his pants were a bit more snug. Then again, he still looked like a zombie, too pale and with deep circles under his eyes, but he doubted the serum could help one way or another with that. He sat ramrod straight in his own seat and kept his gaze on the table. Just being there was enough to make him feel panicked because Tony wasn't. Jarvis had asked him to come down to the lab after the briefing. Not the main lab, not the lab that SHIELD shared. Tony's lab. He swallowed hard and tried not to think about it. Jarvis wouldn't ask if there wasn't something big, but he still didn't want to go.

Bruce edged quietly into the room, sensing the tension and trying to keep his own under wraps. Nobody had debriefed them when they got back. They all knew it had gone terribly, all knew that things were ugly. They didn't need to be told. He settled on the other side of Steve, wondering if Steve looked ready to run for any particular reason or if it was just the general situation. "Uh... evening, everyone," he said quietly, getting nothing but a stare from Fury for his efforts.

Logan was there a moment later, Scott in tow, and he looked around at the small gathering. Not much left. "Please tell me we've heard somethin' from Asgard."

"Not a word," Fury admitted. He paused when Melinda May swept into the room. She took a seat without a word. "Agent May has agreed to help us out for the duration. We need warm bodies, and her skills should be a strong addition."

Steve knew he needed to start things off with the only thing he had to present that was positive. "We have one piece of good news." He knew his voice sounded rough, and describing anything as "good" made him feel physically ill. "Fitz-Simmons managed - with Dr. Banner's help - to find a way to reactivate the serum." He met the uncertain stares from most of the group. "It's not a quick thing like last time. This could take days or even weeks. That said, if we find a direction that someone can point us in, I'm going." 

Natasha tensed but said nothing against the idea. "We need to know-"

The door opened, and Maria Hill stepped inside. "Sorry for the interruption, but we're picking up an energy signature. The only thing that comes close is the last time Thor paid us a visit."

"Well thank fuck for that," Fury muttered. "Where is it?"

The woman smiled faintly. "The street out front."

"Avengers, let's have a little welcome party ready." Fury rose, coat swirling behind him.

The rest of the group was obviously expected to follow, so Steve stood and did just that. He felt uncertain about pretty much everything, and he wished like hell that they had a plan other than "don't die" in case the visitor wasn't friendly. There was heavy silence among the team as the energy rushed down from the sky. It was actually rather awe-inspiring. Steve supposed that if he didn't feel like his heart had been ripped out, he would have been fascinated. Instead he just felt tired. When a gorgeous woman hit the broken ground and stood, covered in armor, he tensed. 

She looked them over with a frown. "You are SHIELD?" she inquired, uncertain but obviously unwilling to have made the trip for nothing despite spotting no familiar faces in the crowd. 

 

Logan watched the woman warily, claws already poised for battle. "Yeah. Are you a good alien, or a bad alien?"

Bruce put a hand on Logan's shoulder and stepped up cautiously. If the woman was Asgardian, he knew he stood the best chance if she was hostile. "We're with SHIELD. We were kind of hoping you'd be... uh, Thor." He rifled through his memories of the files he'd read. "Sif, right? I'm guessing that if you're here, things up in Asgard aren't too good."

"You speak the truth," the woman agreed, her own posture relaxing somewhat at the words. "I am Lady Sif of Asgard. I had hoped to find Phillip, Son of Coul amongst you. He is a friend of Thor's."

"So are we, ma'am," Steve broke in, holding his hand out. He saw her hesitate, but soon Sif clasped his forearm, and he returned the gesture firmly. "I'm Steve Rogers. This is Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Melinda May, Logan, Scott Summers, and Nick Fury. We're the Avengers."

"Yes... yes, many of your names are familiar to me. May we speak of a mutual enemy, then?"

"Inside, ma'am. Please," Steve added. He let Fury lead the charge back inside. The stares that met them on the way in were in equal parts shock and blank awe. Certainly Sif had the presence to inspire both. She was terrifying but also striking. 

"I feel like I'm part of the weirdest Charlie's Angels episode ever," Scott muttered to Logan under his breath as they all entered the conference room again.

"Lady Sif, what can you tell us?" Fury began at once. 

Instead of being put out by the lack of hospitality, Sif placed her hands on the conference table and met his gaze intently. "Thor is in the grip of some spell, our king lies in the Odinsleep, and the Lady Frigga is being held by a companion of Loki's."

"Magneto?" Scott ventured. It would explain why the Brotherhood's leader hadn't been seen at all.

"Indeed, that is the man. Thor is but Loki's puppet, and even if the spell is broken - the Lady Frigga could surely do so - it would mean her life. We are being held hostage, and this will not stand. Thor showed his brother mercy before. The course was not the right one." Sif had thought it a foolish way to handle things in the first place. No one as untrustworthy as Loki would hesitate to go to any lengths to secure his freedom - just as he had in the end. "Heimdall, the gate keeper, aided me in my escape. My departure will be noticed, but I do not intend to return alone."

Logan grinned broadly. He liked this Sif lady already. "Hell no, you ain't," he agreed. He hadn't even understood half of what Sif had said, but he was ready to break some faces, and knowing Magneto was involved made him that much more anxious to do so.

"You're staying clear of Magneto, right?" Bruce asked, smirking a little when he drew a glare. He wiped the smile off his face quickly, though, nodding. "At least a few of us could go with you. We're pretty thin on manpower, but I'd definitely say myself and Logan could follow along." He didn't like it, but he was starting to have fewer and fewer compunctions about charging into battle. 

Logan glanced at Scott. "Maybe we could call in some o' the X-Men to at least hold down the fort while the rest of us go to... uh..."

"Asgard," Bruce offered.

"There. Maybe Bobby and Hank and some o' the others could keep watch here if they're not all about headin' off the planet."

 

"I'll put in the call," Fury agreed. He couldn't say Xavier was a buddy of his, but the man cared about his people and about humanity in general. Saving the world ranked above making friends. "Captain Rogers, until we know how this thing Fitz-Simmons cooked up is going, I want you here.t." 

Natasha met May's gaze briefly. "I'll go. Agent May should stay here in case word comes in about Barton or Coulson." They were still keeping an eye out on the channels, but she knew that it was a long shot in a lot of ways. If Loki had them, they wouldn't be seeing them anytime soon. If ever. At least she knew May cared almost as much as she did about seeing it resolved positively and seeing Loki gutted. She explained to Sif, "Loki has two of ours." Her eyes narrowed. "He killed another."

Sif looked almost as furious as Natasha at the revelation. "It will not go unpunished."

"We're counting on it," Fury agreed. "Summers, you willing to stay behind to coordinate with the X-Men?"

Scott hesitated, glancing at Logan, then nodded more certainly. "Yes, sir." He didn't like it, but it made a lot of sense.

Steve drew in a breath and said, "Okay, that's got us. Everybody who's going, suit up. The rest of us will be here on call, hopefully with some of the X-Men within the next hour or two. Be careful." He rose, shaking each person's hand in turn and nodded to Lady Sif. "Everyone who's going with Sif, meet her out front."

The woman smiled, eyes bright. "We shall be victorious in Asgard, and then we shall bring the wrath of Asgard down upon Loki. You have my word."

 

"I like you," Logan decided, giving Sif a smile. He dragged Scott into a long kiss, audience be damned. He didn't know when or if he'd see his lover again, and he wasn't going to worry about someone feeling a little uncomfortable. "Be careful," he said. "You'll be fine."

"So will you," Scott countered, kissing his lover again with a smile. This time he felt it. Maybe it was the proud warrior woman leading the mission or the obvious bloodlust in the air, but he didn't think anyone would be getting out of the battle on the other side without a prompt surrender. "You've got an appointment to keep." Scott winked and stepped back to silently release Logan to head out.

Bruce sighed, looking worried as usual but following the rest of the team outside. May was definitely the quiet type, even compared to Natasha. "So, ever been to an alien world before? First for me," he said conversationally.

Natasha shrugged. "Not yet. Something tells me necks break the same way in Asgard." She smiled in a rather off-putting way at Bruce only to turn at the sound of steps behind them.

Simmons blushed at the sudden scrutiny. "I... I wanted to wish you luck. All of you." She'd originally emerged from her room to check on Captain Rogers, but Jarvis had informed her he was busy, so instead she'd followed the scuttlebutt about the street being demolished out front. "Maybe when you get back from all this," Jemma added with a smile for Bruce alone, "you can tell me about it over that coffee."

Ducking her head, Natasha hid a smile. It was almost painfully cute, and no matter how worried she was, it was hard not to feel good about Bruce getting a date. If anyone could use stress relief from time to time, it was Banner. She looked back to Simmons. "We'll be sure to bring him back in one piece for you." Without another word, she moved forward and left the pair of them in the relative privacy of being toward the back of the pack.

"Me, sure, I’ll be in one piece. I hope Asgard's as resilient," Bruce remarked with a quirk of a smile. He reached out and gave Jemma's shoulder a squeeze. "We'll definitely get that coffee. I'll take pictures. Maybe a selfie of me and Heimdall."

Logan couldn't help the faint smirk tugging at his lips. They were adorable, really. Oddly right for one another. He briefly wondered about the age difference before remembering he had a couple centuries on his own boyfriend. "You might want her to step back, unless you're plannin' to just bring 'er with us," he remarked, smirking faintly.

"Oh, yes, of course." Blushing furiously, Jemma hurried back to the doorway to the building. She knew it wasn't exactly her division to go flitting off to other planets, but she couldn't help but be fascinated by the idea of at least seeing the process.

"You are ready?" Sif called over her shoulder. Catching a nod from Logan, the woman smiled and the sky opened above them. Of course Heimdall was watching, and the fact that he'd been free to open the bridge again meant their arrival would be a surprise. "Tonight we celebrate. Today we fight!" she cried out as the light surrounded them.


	10. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phil and Clint find their way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussions of trauma (of course), but ultimately a hopeful chapter. Also a callback to the one shot "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Thor's Hammer" because I love it.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, Phil had an arm curled protectively around Clint's waist. They were... nowhere. Nowhere he could put a finger on, anyway, which was the same thing. They were surrounded by scrub brush and a few trees that looked like they'd never actually seen any water. Still suspicious of the situation, too much so to spend much time worrying about his surroundings, Phil pressed, "What kind of deal is that? What does Loki get from letting us go?"

Victor shrugged. "He doesn't want SHIELD on his lawn. Can't say I blame him. He just wants you out of his house. I'm sure the two of you've had some survival training. You'll be fine. Or, y'know, die of exposure," he said with a smirk. He glanced at Clint, who stared back, trying to be defiant. "Don't forget me, pretty. I won't forget you for awhile."

Clint had opened his mouth to spout off a comeback when the mutant disappeared in a flash of light. "Shit." He glanced around at their surroundings. "I hope this is just a shitty corner of El Paso," he muttered. It was frightening to be left without any resources in the wild, but at least it was a situation they had some control over. They had some hope of being able to do something to take care of themselves. He glanced at Phil. "Any ideas?"

"You say that like there's a corner of El Paso that isn't shitty," Phil answered, looking around. He felt dizzy from the thought that they were alone and free. The wilderness he could deal with. They both knew how to survive worse than a shirtless night out in the desert. With Victor out of the way, he breathed in deeply. There weren't any fumes hanging in the air, which meant they were farther from a busy road than he liked. With no food or water, they only had so much energy to expend. Knowing that if there was an advantage to be caught visually, Clint would catch it, he pressed, "See anything promising?"

Clint scanned the area around them, looking for any detail, any clue as to where they were. In the distance, he caught sight of the faintest hint of an electrical pole. "That way." He swayed slightly, trying to get a feel for how far away it was. "It'll be a good twenty miles. I don't know if it's a highway or a town, but it's civilization. Sort of. Unless it actually is El Paso."

“Only twenty miles with no food and water? Easy." Phil smiled wryly and started walking. Waiting wasn't going to do them any favors. Maybe having a nice, painful sunburn would distract from other pain that was only going to get more distracting as time wore on and they got nice and sweaty. The internal whining was tempered by the idea that no one would accost them in the middle of the desert. They were out of Loki's clutches and Creed's too, and they were going to get home. It was only a matter of time. "C'mere." Phil breathed easier the second Clint's hand closed around his. "We'll get there eventually."

Clint nodded, still scanning for something that would make a decent shelter. "We need to find a place to hunker down until nightfall. You're not supposed to move through the desert in daylight," he pointed out. It had been awhile since he'd been left with absolutely no backup to speak of and had to fend for himself, but he still remembered his training. He gave Phil's hand a squeeze. "I don't think either of us need a tan." He finally sighted a rock jutting out of the ground with a bit of a cave like recess. "Here we go." He let go of Phil's hand long enough to make sure the thing was free of any hungry, angry wildlife before settling under it. It was a good bit cooler than the direct sunlight. He patted the ground next to him. "Have a seat. We've got some time to kill."

 

Phil nodded his agreement with the assessment. It made sense. He wanted to just be done and home and finally fucking shower, but Clint was right. Completely right. Phil took a deep breath and let himself marvel at how rarely Clint was the sensible one as they settled onto the rocky ground. He winced but actually felt a little better leaning into Clint's side. "I think it's fair to say my judgment is suspect at the moment. Possibly terrible." He let his head fall against Clint's shoulder with a sigh. "Maybe that whole rest thing isn't such an awful idea."

 

Clint grinned. The heat was already making him sweat, but getting into the shade was a help. "We're gonna be a sight when we finally do hit civilization," he remarked. The two of them looked like they'd hitched a ride on the underside of an eighteen wheeler. He scanned their surroundings while they sat, hoping to find something that could help them. Walking steadily, they'd be able to make it to the electric pole he'd spotted overnight. Whether there'd be any help to be found there was another question altogether. Having supplies would be a boost if they didn't find any support.

"This is one of the rare moments where I almost wish Fury was paranoid enough to put tracking devices in the back of our necks," Coulson mused as they stared out over the vast and rather disheartening expanse of absolutely nothing. Finally he closed his eyes and focused on letting the tense muscles in his body relax. Being vigilant was good, but he hadn't honestly relaxed since they were taken, and that was forcing his body to work double time. If they were going to spend the night walking only to realize they needed to do even more walking, he had to recharge a little first. With food and water out of reach, that left rest. "Do me a favor and poke me if I need to wake up and help you stomp a snake to death or something."

"I think I can handle a snake. And then we'd have food," Clint pointed out, smiling a little as he noticed Phil relaxing. He shifted around until he'd wallowed out a decent, cool pit in the ground, then laid back. He tugged at Coulson until his handler relaxed and settled against him. It was a little uncomfortably warm, but he knew they'd get cool quickly in the shade. That, and he needed the reassurance of contact while he slept.

 

Phil knew it was silly to be huddled so closely together when they were already baking, but he didn't want to let go. He needed to hold fast to Clint and feel the steady beat of the man's heart. It made their escape feel more real. Much as Phil wanted to murmur a million different things he'd be embarrassed about later, he settled for silence and feeling Clint against him and knowing that somehow, when they woke up, they were going to get home and be just fine.

The cold was what woke Clint up. He sat up, careful to avoid waking Phil, hoping they hadn't lost too much darkness. He gently nudged Coulson, smiling faintly. "Hey, wakey wakey. Time to start hiking," he said gently. He was eager to get on the road and knew Phil was, too.

Phil woke at once, consciousness flowing back into him as he shifted, stretched, and tried not to think about how sore he was and how much worse it would be after a full night of walking. "Let's do it," he agreed as they both got to their feet.They looked like they'd escaped from a deserted island and washed ashore, dusty and half dressed. It was enough to make him smile for real. "We need to come up with a very, very interesting cover story for this one. If we're going to look this ridiculous, we might as well be able to back it up with a good story for whoever finds us." Personally he hoped they'd find someone whose phone they could borrow before it came down to hitchhiking in the middle of nowhere, but he'd take what he could get.

Clint smirked. "I vote for 'attacked by rabid poodles.' Just ridiculous enough to be believed, right?"

They walked steadily toward their destination, Clint making a point to bring up old goof-ups and stories from missions they'd shared and even the rare few they hadn't. He tried to keep it light, funny, anything to distract them from the misery of recent events and the soreness in their bodies. Finally, as they neared the electrical pole Clint had spotted - with the sun just threatening on the horizon - Clint was relieved to catch sight of an actual gas station. "Thank god," he remarked. They picked up the pace a little in anticipation, and it didn't take them long to cover the last three miles.

As they walked into the store, the clerk stared at them in near-shock. She was a lean, dark-haired young woman, and she did a double-take when she caught sight of Coulson. "You... it was you." She walked around the counter, staring hard at Phil as if to reassure herself she wasn't imagining it. "Remember? With the donuts? And the bag of flour?"

Clint glanced at his handler, one eyebrow raised. Of all the reactions to them shuffling miserably into a gas station, this was not a scenario that had crossed his mind.

 

Phil blinked, momentarily too stunned by the burst of familiarity to say anything, and then managed a smile. "Right. Yes, that would be me," he agreed. It was somehow a great deal more mortifying to be standing half naked in the gas station with someone he almost knew, but he was too grateful for the civilization to care. "Could I borrow your phone?"

"You can have the phone if you want it," the woman answered, holding out her cell instead of the store phone. At his raised eyebrow, she shrugged, "Dude, I barely want to touch that thing. If you knew the manager, you wouldn't want to either."

"Understood." His finger was trembling as he quickly dials the first SHIELD contact he could think of. 

Maria Hill's voice came through sharp and certain, "Who the hell-"

"It's me." He could almost hear the wheels turning. 

"Where are you? Do you need back up?"

"No back up, but we could use a lift." Now that he had his bearings, it was easy enough to give her instructions on how to reach the gas station, random and remote as it was. "Once we get back, a once over in medical would be appreciated."

"We'll have somebody there before you have a chance to read all the dirty magazines in the rack."

"That would be great. It's a pretty small rack." The phone went silent, and Phil handed it back to the clerk. "Thank you."

"Hey, no problem. Um, we have a couple of shirts. They're pretty awful tourist shirts, but..." She shrugged and pointed to the rack. "You're welcome to them. Food and whatever too."

"Thank you," Phil repeated, genuinely grateful. He crossed over to the shirts and couldn't help a wry smile as he looked over to Clint. "Am I more a neon pink guy or a camo guy?"

 

Clint winced at the options, then smirked. "You might look kinda cute in pink," he decided, pushing an appropriate size into the other man's hands. He grabbed one in camo for himself and popped the tag off before pulling it on. It was snug, but at least it made him a little more decent, cruddy as he felt. Much more concerned with sustenance, he was quickly uncapping a big bottle of Gatorade and guzzling several ounces before shoving it into Phil's hands. He tore into a package of potato chips next, stuffing a handful into his mouth and offering some to his handler.

"Uhm, shouldn't you guys be after the protein bars or something?"

"Carbs when you're dehydrated. Protein fucks up the kidneys," the archer replied around a mouthful of food. He glanced between the clerk and Phil. "You two're gonna haveta explain the donuts and flour thing. Unless it's kinky. Then I'll pass."

Phil briefly rolled his eyes skyward as if asking for help from above, then explained, "There was an incident when I was on my way to New Mexico," he paused and gave Clint a significant look, "a couple of guys looking to get some quick cash. I dealt with it. I was disarmed, so I had to improvise a little." He glanced back at the clerk. "The donuts did the job, though. The sugar rush managed to take me through the rest of the drive." He grabbed a few more chips. Having his blood sugar out of the toilet was doing wonders for his mood.

Clint laughed. Phil had his sense of humor back already, and it did a lot to make the archer feel better, as well. "And the flour...?"

"He knocked one of the guys the fuck out with a bag of flour. Well, distracted him and then knocked him the fuck out," the clerk said, grinning broadly. "Your buddy's a real badass." She seemed to register the way they stood together, the oddly protective give-and-take between them, and smiled. "And you make a cute couple." 

The archer had the decency to blush, worrying the bag of chips in his hands. "Uh, thanks." He was surprised the woman didn't want to know what had happened to them, but then if she'd seen Coulson in action, she'd probably already assumed it was something utterly insane.

It was hard not to feel his heart warm at the words. The truth was that the majority of reactions that Coulson expected were people wondering why a man fifteen years his junior and gorgeous as hell was actually dating him. He couldn't quite resist brushing his fingers against Clint's when he passed the Gatorade back. It was strange and new - odd, really - to have someone else see them as a couple. After everything they'd been through, it was really damn nice. "Thank you," Phil echoed earnestly. "We'll be out of your hair soon. We have a ride coming." His internal clock told him that they probably had a good fifteen minutes or so until air support arrived. Maria might have believed that there was no immediate danger, but she'd send an agent or two anyway. It was just the way she was. Not that Phil really minded. It was a day when someone being overprotective of them sounded kind of nice. 

More quietly, he informed Clint, "I'm going to sleep for a month when we get home. After showering for a few hours straight. After that." He shuddered faintly at the thought and then got himself locked down again.

Clint nodded his agreement. He didn't point out that Phil would need a run through medical, too. They both would. For some serious antibiotics, of nothing else. Deciding it didn't matter, he leaned lightly against his handler and smiled faintly. "And I'm gonna be curled up next to you, wherever you sleep," he decided, starting to feel the fatigue as it sank on that they were safe. He glanced at the store clerk, remembering she was there. "Thanks again, uhhh..."

"Donna." She smiled. "And I'm just paying him back," she added with a nod to Phil. "Though I quit with the tai bo and went for a conceal and carry license."

"Not a bad plan. Just be sure you know how to use it so it helps you and not them," Phil cautioned, the desire to make sure that everyone around him was safe overriding even the strong urge to sink to the floor, wrap his arms around Clint, and sleep. He was about to give in to the impulse when he heard the sound of rotors outside and breathed a sigh of relief. "I think that's us." There was nothing but landing space around them, so there was no real worry about having to hike to the chopper. Phil gave Donna a wave and an additional, "Thank you," before he forced himself to let go of Clint's hand and start walking. 

The agents outside barely blinked at their odd-looking shirts or rumpled appearances. "You two alright?" 

It took Phil a second to remember the man's name, and he cursed his brain for being so sluggish. //You still need to keep it together for a few more hours.// "More or less. We'll need a trip to medical when we get there, but it's not an emergency. Agent Ward, we'd appreciate a ride home."

"Understood. Climb aboard." 

It wasn't until they got in that Phil registered who was at the helm. He offered the woman a faint smile. "Agent May."

"Agent Coulson." Despite the cool tone, there was a faint uptick at the corners of the woman's mouth that showed she actually was happy to see them. "I'll have you boys tucked in by bedtime."

Clint had taken a moment to remember Ward as well in spite of having trained him as a fledgling agent. Something still didn't quite sit right with Clint when it came to Ward, but he figured it was just the fact that the man was kind of a dick. Clint's eyes fell closed as soon as he settled into his seat, and he was half out of it when he felt a firm hand push him back into it and yank the harness down over his head. His eyes flicked open to look up in startled confusion as Ward smirked cockily down at him and clipped the harness in place.

"Wouldn't want you to fall out, sleeping beauty," the towering agent quipped before moving to take his own seat as the helicopter lifted off.

The archer sighed and settled back into his seat, managing to wiggle around in the harness enough to rest his head on Coulson's shoulder. He was too tired to realize that the other agents present might wonder about the gesture, instead falling gratefully into sleep.

Normally Phil might have objected. Normally he wouldn't have reached over and put a hand on Clint's thigh just to feel the additional point of contact. The night wasn't normal and neither was the situation. He returned Ward's gaze, silently challenging the flicker of surprise in the agent's eyes. It was gratifying that Ward glanced away first. Phil let the tension seep from his body and closed his eyes, trusting May to get them back safely.

The landing jostled him from a light sleep, and Phil tensed for a fight before he remembered where they were. He got a nod of greeting from Ward as his eyes opened, and Phil gave Clint's leg a gentle shake. "Hey. Time to get to the doctor," he informed the man in a voice rough from sleep and lingering dehydration. The sooner they got the medical part of things done, the sooner they could curl up somewhere and sleep.

"Time to load out, sleeping beauty," Ward agreed, unstrapping from his seat. "Would you like an escort?"

"No. Thank you, Agent Ward. We'll be fine." Phil frankly felt dead on his feet and he hadn't even gotten on his feet yet, but he wasn't interested in company. He suspected that as word filtered through the team that they were back, they'd have plenty of that. He winced at the thought of a debriefing after the exam but doubted he could shake Fury long enough to avoid it. Maybe he could at least get Clint out of it so the archer could get a little rest.

Clint was too tired to get reoriented quickly, and it was a good thing his harness kept him restrained long enough for him to calm down. Taking a deep breath, he finally tugged the release and stood with Phil, still feeling painfully eager to go back to napping in the chopper. Instead, he followed his handler to medical, staying close enough that he occasionally bumped lightly into the other man. 

When they got there, Clint was reluctant to leave Phil's side, but he knew he needed to. They both needed their privacy for the whole process. The docs gave him an intrusive once over before deciding he needed an antibiotic shot and stitching up about half the claw marks in his back. They wanted an immediate psych evaluation as well, but Clint begged them off, pleading exhaustion. They did insist on him getting a shower and handed him some simple grey sweats and a white shirt to change into. 

Once he'd gotten cleaned up, he moved back to the waiting room. He was so exhausted that he fell asleep almost as soon as he stopped moving, his head propped back against the wall.

It was honestly humiliating going through the whole thing, but it was hard to argue with the fact that once he'd showered and changed and had a baggie full of antibiotics and ointment, he actually did feel a little better. Phil made his way out and paused at the sight of Clint passed out in a chair. He should have gone back to his room, should have been getting some real, decent rest. Instead he was propped up in a plastic chair waiting, and Phil couldn't help but be charmed by the visual. He made his way over and put a gentle hand on Clint's shoulder. "Hey, let's get you somewhere a little less awful to sleep." 

Phil had spent a few minutes on the phone negotiating with Maria Hill to play defense for them. He was too tired to process anything and too wiped out to deal with even the best of intentions from their team. He'd compromised on the full debriefing by typing up a skeleton outline on the computer while he waited in medical and sending that off. Everyone knew what had happened in as much as it related to them, and that would have to be enough for a start. It was rare for Phil to insist on doing something other than working, so Hill had relented without pushing too hard. "I managed to buy us until morning for the full debriefing."

"That's good," Clint croaked, "because I don't think Fury would like me falling asleep for it." He followed his handler in a haze. It was hard to stay conscious when there was no real need to. He didn't bother to ask where he was being led and barely registered that they'd apparently both made the decision to go back to Coulson's suite. Clint walked out of his shoes and pants, leaving the shirt in place for the sake of the bandages on his back. He slouched on the edge of the bed until Phil was almost settled, not trusting himself to stay awake long enough for the man to undress. Once his handler was in the bed, the archer pressed himself as tightly as he could to the other man, his face buried in Phil's neck as he relaxed gratefully into sound sleep.

Phil barely managed to get his shoes and shirt off before he gave up and crawled into bed. He found himself quickly surrounded by Clint and murmured good night to the man as he tugged the blankets over them both. He wondered if he could have slept without Clint next to him and the wordless certainty that his lover was safe. He doubted it. Phil drifted off before he even had time to start worrying again. For once dreams blessedly eluded him, but Phil woke with a start. Late afternoon light streamed in through the windows, and he supposed he'd gotten a good five hours or so. He needed more, but there were other things going on. 

They hadn't really checked in, they didn't know where the team was. They had no idea if the fight had gone as badly as it had looked like it was going when they left. Reluctantly, Phil fumbled for the tablet on his nightstand and fired it up, navigating to the reports from the past few days. From their situation, it had been clear that Loki hadn't been defeated, but it still cut to read the report, to know the truth instead of just assuming it. Stark was dead. He could barely imagine how Steve felt, and the thought alone left him reaching for Clint to touch, to feel the reassurance of the man's presence and safety. 

Clint grumbled as the gentle touch woke him, and he rolled back into Coulson, draping his arm across the man and burrowing his face between the pillows his handler was propped up on and Phil's body. He dozed back off for a few minutes before reluctantly waking. He turned his head so he could look up at the other man, then forced himself to sit up slightly and leaned heavily against him. Noting the tablet in Phil's hand and the grim look on the man's face, Clint reached up and cupped Phil's cheek, urging him down so he could brush their lips together. "I take it the updates aren't so great." He hadn't really expected them to be, considering what they'd already known. Phil's expression just confirmed it. Clint pressed his head against the man's chest, trying to comfort himself with the sound of Phil's heartbeat. He didn't want to lose physical contact with Coulson, not even for a second. He was pretty sure he was going to have a hard time maintaining any sort of professionalism during the debriefing, because he knew he was going to want to more or less lean against Phil the entire time.

Phil reached up, his fingers threading into Clint's hair with a sigh of relief. "No, it isn't. Tony's dead. Natasha, Bruce, and Logan have gone with Lady Sif to Asgard to try and bring Thor around. The only good news is that Fitz-Simmons have created something that they think will get Steve back to normal." It was a small bright spot, but at least it was there. It was something. "We have three messages from Fury demanding that we get to his office and do a full debrief. Think you can handle it?" He knew that throwing himself on the grenade and going down alone wouldn't get them far. It would buy Clint and hour or two, no more, and... well, and then there was the fact that he quite frankly didn't want to go someplace that Clint wasn't. 

"As long as you're there," Clint decided. He felt a little pathetic being so clingy, but he didn't want to let Phil out of his sight. He wasn't sure if it was protectiveness or insecurity, but he wasn't in the mood to figure it out at the moment. The confirmation that Tony was dead made him feel even less inclined to leave his handler's side. It hurt. While he was by no means Stark's biggest fan, he knew how it had to have affected Steve. And it hurt on a more personal level, too, knowing they'd lost a teammate. The fact that Steve would be getting back to normal and that Nat was off kicking some Asgardian butt was small consolation. With a heavy sigh, Clint shoved himself out of the bed and went to clean himself up a bit in the bathroom before locating some of his street clothes that he'd left in a pile in the corner. Once dressed, he located his gray hoodie and tugged it on over everything else. It was reassuring somehow being so thoroughly covered.

A trip to the bathroom and a quick reapplication of the salve from medical topped off with a clean, pressed suit left Phil feeling close to normal. At least as close as he was capable of feeling after what they'd been through. He emerged and hesitated for only a second before taking Clint's hand. He caught a brief look of surprise at the gesture, then shrugged. "I don't feel like taking any shit from anybody at the moment. I want to hold your hand. I may hold your hand the whole meeting... if you're okay with it." They walked out together, and it helped. Silly as it was, that small bit of connection made it a thousand times easier. 

Even entering Fury's office wasn't that bad, although the man gave them a warning look when he caught sight of their joined hands. Coulson didn't even blink in response, and the man slumped back in his chair, apparently resigned. "We all know this one's gonna suck, which is why it's just us. We don't have to put the whole report out there for everybody, but the team needs to know the big parts. Coulson, you redact what you need to redact once I get the full picture."

"Thank you, sir." It was a big offer, giving him that much control, and he appreciated the gesture greatly. 

"Barton, start us off. You were out of the vent first."

Clint nodded, swallowed hard, and gave Phil's hand a squeeze. Normally, it wasn't that difficult to debrief. Then again, normally he and his handler didn't get abducted by a psychotic, superhuman rapist. "I got dragged out of the vent, sir. Creed sliced it open with his claws - they're metal, and that's not in his file, by the by - and pulled me out. He had me by the armor, so I had to squirm out of it. We fought some more. Arrows aren't real good against a guy that heals that fast. He managed to get hold of me, made Ph - Agent Coulson drop his weapon. Then he used some kind of tech to take us out of there. Probably something Loki gave him." His frame tensed even more, and he looked ready to fight or run as he took another deep breath. "He kept us and..." He trailed off, looking away and swallowing hard, unable to continue.

Knowing it wouldn't make it easier to wait, Coulson took a moment to divorce himself from it all. He related the rest in a flat tone free of emotion. Fury received the information without batting an eyelash. He stared straight at Coulson and never even blinked. By the time he finished, Phil was clutching Clint's hand tight. It took longer than he would have liked to get the muscles to unclench.

Fury waited until he stopped to speak again. "You'll both need psych clearance before I can let you out there again." He looked down pointedly at their hands. "You need the time."

Clint had all but tuned out during Phil's recount of the events, the man's hand in his own the only thing keeping him anchored to reality, keeping him from slipping back to Creed pinning him to the floor... When Phil was done, Fury's words seemed to shake him out of it a little, and he nodded slowly. "Got it, sir," he agreed. Talking with a stranger about what had happened was the last thing he wanted to do, but he wanted to be able to go back into the field, and he knew that was what it would take.

Fury waited until he got a nod of agreement from Coulson, then leaned back. "I'll have Jarvis schedule your assessments and let you know. For now, take some time to yourselves."

The archer pushed himself numbly to his feet and followed Phil out of the room. They'd gotten only a few feet down the hallway before he threw his arms around the other man and buried his face in Phil's chest. Tears came to his eyes and he struggled to breathe evenly as he held onto Phil like he was the only handle on reality Clint had. It was several moments before he calmed down, but he kept leaning against the other man. "Sorry," he murmured, taking a deep breath and finally straightening. "It's a lot to process."

Phil's mouth was pressed into a tight line. He managed to hold himself together just barely, and only because they were standing in the hall. Without a word, he slid an arm around Clint's waist and led the man back to his room. The second they were through the door, Phil pulled Clint in tight and took a series of shaky breaths. "Sorry, just... I just needed to be here first." He'd needed to know it was just the two of them. He loathed the idea of sharing anything with a shrink, but he also knew the danger of coming to depend too heavily on Clint as the only other person who understood. That was stupid and short sighted. They needed to be able to function independently to do their jobs, and despite the danger and the risk, Phil loved his job. "We can try to behave like rational adults later. Right now I want to keep touching you and being close. It reminds me to breathe."

Clint nodded, gratefully burrowing his face into the man's chest for several moments before he relented and tugged Phil to the couch. "I think I like that plan," he said quietly, sitting down and tugging Phil down with him. He remembered their make-out session on the couch from a few days prior, and that brought him a sort of comfort. They were safe here at least. They had each other. Clint leaned in close to his handler and buried his face in Phil's neck, breathing the man in and pressing light kisses to his skin, eyes closed as he tried to forget everything but the fact that they had each other. When his lips brushed across the bandage over the bite mark Victor had left, forgetting became a non-option, but Clint lightly kissed the bandage as well. "I wish... I wish it hadn't happened. But... you being there kept me from losing it completely."

 

Phil let out a shuddering breath. Just the touch to that harsh reminder of their captivity made his eyes tear up. "I hate that it happened, especially after... after what Loki did to you before." He turned his head to kiss the side of Clint's head. "I wanted to protect you. That's... I'm supposed to be able to do that." Speaking the thought gave it form, but it also felt better being honest about the perceived failure.

Clint tensed at the mention of Loki. "You knew, then, huh?" Getting a nod from Phil, the archer let his head fall against the man's shoulder. Of course Phil had known. Clint was his asset. Phil probably knew more about Clint than the archer himself did. "Loki left his mark on us both," he said, his hand sliding over Phil's chest, fingers bumping over the ridge of his lover's scar as he looked up to meet Phil's gaze. "I guess there are some things we just can't save each other from." It had hurt in ways he couldn't articulate when they'd lost his handler, and suddenly Clint understood Phil's perspective on their current situation that much better.

Phil had to swallow hard before he could even speak. "It's the only file I never finished reading," he confessed quietly, his fingers closing over Clint's and holding fast. He was under control enough to keep the grip from being bruising this time around. "I read enough to know... to understand a little, but... I couldn't handle it." He couldn't quite bring himself to meet Clint's gaze although his hold on the man's hand never faltered. "I probably should have requested that you be reassigned right then and there." Phil quirked a faint smile and glanced over at Clint. "Actually, you probably should have when I was out of commission for months. Apparently we both lack a certain amount of common sense."

Clint pulled Phil's hand to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of it and smiled ruefully. "You know, once I got out of containment, they actually did try to put me with a couple other handlers. When they still thought you were..." It was his turn to remind himself not to crush Phil's hand. "Well, let's just say, I might've gotten myself labeled as Ward 2.0. Apparently, I was too hard-headed. Or maybe I just didn't wanna hear anyone's voice in my ear telling me what to do." The archer had never been a follower. It was the entire reason Nat was alive and working for SHIELD. It was the reason he'd gone through three handlers prior to getting assigned to Coulson and the reason SHIELD had been on the verge of having him 'put down.' But Phil had given the archer the stability he'd never had, someone to depend on. And that had made it a lot easier to deal with - and eventually oddly enjoy - being told what to do. At least when Phil was the one holding the reins.

The thought was enough to bring the smile back to Phil's face. It was nice to know that more than laziness had brought Clint back to him. "I'm glad you didn't. I don't honestly know what I would've done otherwise. No offense to Natasha, but the team is... it's pretty perfect the way it is. I wouldn't want it to change." The three of them had a rhythm together that not many SHIELD teams could match. "I would've hated not to come home to you, anyway. It wouldn't have felt right." Stupid as it was on some levels for them to stay together professionally, Phil wouldn't trade it unless he was forced to. He wouldn't have wanted anyone else guiding Clint through missions or listening to the painful silences while they waited for confirmations of success or failure. "We should sleep soon. Hopefully we can have our psych evals and prove we're not too broken to work. Or that we are for awhile." Badly as Phil wanted to be part of taking Loki down, he knew there was a chance that a shrink would hear the catch in his voice, see the tremors in his hands, and tell him to stay the hell away from missions for awhile. He frankly didn't know what he'd do with himself in that case.

Clint could see the worry in Phil's face and he nuzzled his lover's throat. "Hey. We'll get better. Maybe later over sooner, but either way..." He looped his arms around Phil's neck and pressed a light kiss to the man's lips. "Look at it this way: if we do get benched, we can spend lots of time going on awesome dates." He reluctantly made himself slide off the couch and away from Phil, in spite of the fact that even that small separation hurt. He held out a hand and pulled Coulson up off the couch. "C'mon. Let's go cuddle and sleep for a few days." He tugged Phil into the bedroom, separating just long enough for them to strip down to their underwear. It was harder to ignore all the bumps and bruises and bandages with their clothes mostly off, but Clint didn't care. It felt too good to press himself against Phil with barely anything between them. In spite of sleep tugging insistently at him, the archer ran his fingers gently over the bandages, lightly brushing the digits over bruises as if to soothe the hurt away.

With anyone else, Phil knew he would have hesitated to strip down. He was bruised and battered, and seeing that made it feel more real. It was good for the healing process. He knew that intellectually. Less intellectually, he wanted to take his meds and hide away from the pain. Instead he dealt with things in what he felt was a slightly better adjusted way. He curled up in bed and let himself get wrapped up in Clint's comforting warmth. He couldn't resist kissing Clint's forehead and thanking god silently for the fact that they could still touch each other without flinching. It meant that with time and effort and space, they would get to a better place. Clint was absolutely right. "Sweet dreams." 

 

"Mmhm," Clint mumbled, managing a sleepy smile even with his eyes closed. Exhaustion finally overcame Clint's desire to enjoy the closeness, and he drifted off into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

He jerked awake hours later, though he felt like it had only been minutes. His eyes darted around as panic rose until he realized that he was still safe and still in Phil's suite. And Phil was still pressed close to him. The archer smiled and shifted carefully closer, not wanting to wake the other man. They needed all the rest they could get.

Though Clint shifting around actually did rouse Phil from sleep, he didn't open his eyes. He gave it a second, and soon Clint was pressed in tightly against him again, warm and apparently relaxed. They needed the time to regenerate. 

A quiet voice broke the lull. "Sirs?"

Jarvis normally didn't break into the sanctity of Phil's suite at his request - it was a bit unsettling, by and large, to have a piece of tech designed by Tony intruding into his private routine. The circumstances were far from normal, however, and he cleared his throat. "Yes, Jarvis?"

"I thought you might want to have a bit of time to dress and eat something. I have scheduled evaluations for you each in an hour."

"Thank you, Jarvis." Reluctantly, Phil shifted and offered Clint a faint smile. "No rest for the wicked. You ready for this?"

"Well, it won't be the first time I've had to show them on the doll," Clint remarked, smiling grimly. He remained nestled against Phil a moment longer before reluctantly drawing away and locating pants and a shirt. "Y'know, if I'm gonna keep staying here, I'll eventually need to bring some clean clothes up that didn't come from medical." The thought of talking about what had happened without Phil sounded almost as painful as the idea of having the man with him. He really just wanted to curl back up with his handler and stay in the bed another day or two. "Want some eggs and bacon? I'm decent at cooking those."

"That would be perfect," Phil agreed readily. He hesitated before adding, "As for the clothes, I don't mind clearing out a drawer or two." That sounded rather official, rather early on, but he hoped it would be taken in the spirit it was intended. It wasn't meant to be pushing, it was meant to be supportive. The truth was he would just as soon have Clint around as much as humanly possible. Phil already knew he wasn't likely to sleep much the first few nights after Clint decided to go back to his own room. "You're also welcome to borrow something. Probably won't fit exactly right, but it's a standing offer."

Clint was quiet for a long moment as he moved about the kitchen, getting out the aforementioned food and prepping a pot of coffee while he was at it. He felt he should have been trying to sleep in his own bed, stand on his own. But the idea hurt. Still fiddling with the coffee maker, Clint nodded slowly. "Okay," he finally agreed, the word quiet but firm. While part of him wanted to drag Phil back into the bedroom and make the man forget that anyone else had ever touched him and promise him that they'd never be apart, Clint knew it was way too soon on a few different time scales. Even without the abduction, though, it would have been too much. The frantic urgency to seal their relationship for good was hard to quell, though. Gently, Clint edged closer and tugged Phil close, brushing a gentle kiss to the man's lips before he rested his head against the other man's shoulder. "Thank you. Don't think I could sleep anywhere else."

Phil smiled back and put a hand against the back of Clint's neck, stroking the sensitive skin. "I wouldn't really want you to." A thought had been swirling in his mind, and even though he was loathe to broach the subject, it was as good a time as any. "If you... look, I don't care what's happened, I fully intend, once we're both ready, to make sure that we have the absolute most fantastic sex that two people have ever had. That said, it's going to be awhile." It was hard to be sure, but the words felt true. He'd never been through anything like what Creed had done to him, and the reality of it was too jarring to ignore. "If you need someone... this is a very different situation. That whole monogamy rule... this is..." He wasn't sure how to put it into words, but if Clint felt ready a long time before he did, having Clint be with someone else sounded a lot better than losing the man altogether. "Just make sure it's someone you trust. That we trust. Go to Natasha, not one of those bars, okay?"

Clint drew back a little, eyes searching the other man's face as he spoke, brow furrowed. "Phil... I don't... I don't think I could do that." The idea sounded terrible. Not so much the idea of sleeping with Nat, of course, but just the idea of going to someone else if Phil was still trying to recover. Clint worried his lower lip, running a hand down Phil's chest. "I mean, I know... Considering my past... exploits, I get why you'd think..." He trailed off, trying to get his thoughts in order. "I don't think I want anyone else. I'll wait, okay?"

Phil would have been lying if he said he wasn't relieved, but he wasn't willing to drop the subject entirely either. "Thank you. I'd like that, but I'm also old enough to know that things aren't always perfect. This is one of those things where... Being with you means a lot more to me than worrying about that. I just want you to know that if the way you feel on that count changes, I'm not going anywhere." Once he was sure that Clint understood, he drew the man into a gentle kiss. "I just wanted you to know. Now, I think you promised breakfast?"

Clint managed a smile, though he still couldn't quite get comfortable with the idea. For one, he was pretty sure he didn't need anything that would reinforce his fixation on Nat. For another, he wasn't sure that fixation really existed anymore. Reminding himself he had a breakfast to make, he peeled himself away from Phil after he stole one more kiss. He tossed the bacon in the skillet, poking at it as he waited for it to cook. "How do you like your eggs?" he asked, catching the first pieces of toast as they popped up and quickly dropping them on a plate before adding a couple more.

"Over easy," Phil answered, leaning against the counter and savoring the luxury of letting someone else do the cooking. It was a bizarre thing, really, to let someone else take on the workload. He wasn't used to the division of labor at home. He wasn't used to not being alone. It was amazing. "And the bacon should be so crisp it snaps easily. I will never understand why anyone would have any use for soggy bacon."

"Because I'm an animal and I was raised by wolves," Clint replied, giving Phil a smirk. He let the first batch of bacon crisp up as requested, then made some slightly soggier for himself as he started the eggs in a separate pan. Once he had a good pile of both, he shoved the food and a pair of cups and plates onto the bar and settled next to Phil with silverware and napkins. He let his leg press against the other man's from hip hinge to knee as he loaded his plate up and poured himself some coffee. He took a bite, then smiled fondly at his handler. "I like this," he decided, his eyes drifting back to his food as he blushed a little at the simple confession. "Feels good."

"Really good." It felt normal. Since they'd gotten back, nothing else had, but sitting at the counter with Clint pressed against him and a plate of food was a slice of perfection. The silent assurance that eventually things could be normal and okay again soothed Phil's soul. "You're excellent breakfast company." Clint in the morning, he was coming to learn, was different than Clint once he'd had time to wake up and get his brain firing. He was a softer, more subdued version of himself - and every bit as wonderful. A glance at the clock made him frown briefly. "Unfortunately I think reality's going to intrude soon. After that, I suspect we're going to have to check in with the team. Nat's not going to take our word for it that we're alive."

Clint growled around a mouthful of eggs at the idea. More at the idea of seeing the doc than seeing Nat, but the concept of "other people" sounded generally terrible at the moment. He wanted to stay in the cocoon that was Phil's suite until somewhere around that time next year. He tried not to think about it as he guzzled a bit more coffee, realizing belatedly that his therapy session was probably going to be interrupted by a bathroom break. Fuck it. Putting the cup down, he let his head fall on Phil's shoulder and whined. "I don't wanna."

"Sirs, I'm afraid that - "

"I got it, Jarvis," Clint said with a sigh, tugging Phil into a light but lingering kiss. //Just one for the road.//

"We'll live," Phil promised as the other man pulled back. "And we'll do the dishes when we're done. It'll be a reminder that even the less fun parts of life go on." He managed to speak the words with a straight face but couldn't help smiling as he stole another kiss. "Go on. Let's get it done." He pulled on his suit jacket on the way out and let his own makeshift armor comfort him as they headed down the hallway.


	11. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve gets a gift from Tony via Jarvis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie - writing this made me cry a little, so... it's sad. That's what I'm saying. But sweet.

The lights in the lab came up as he approached, and it gave Steve chills even though he knew it was just Jarvis being hospitable. "Thank you for coming, sir. Forgive the interruption."

"No, Jarvis, it's fine." Talking to the computer was odd, but it made him feel closer to Tony. He liked that a lot. "What did you want to show me?" He felt his throat closing up at the sight of the clutter. There were half-full coffee cups, some with various colors of mold clinging to their insides. More electronics than he could identify littered every surface. He saw no fewer than a dozen completely ridiculous-looking things that might well have been robots, and a toaster that looked like it was being modified to some state that made Steve frankly uneasy. It looked as if Tony could walk in any second with a snarky remark and a smile. "Jarvis?"

Whether the computer picked up on the catch in his voice or just wanted to be prompt, Jarvis lit a path leading toward the back of the lab, to the section where Tony's suits were displayed. "Sir, if you would?"

Steve balked. His feet flatly refused to move in the direction of the suits. He slowly got over it, one foot in front of the other, until he stood in the circle of suits, shaking. "Jarvis, what-" The light died away on all of the cabinets but one. It was a sleek design that resembled Tony's suit in many ways, but instead of red and gold, it was steely blue with a bright white star on the chest. "What is this?"

"After the serum failed, Mr. Stark began experimenting with some of his alternate models in case you chose to use one. Given that the team is particularly understaffed, it seemed a prudent time to show you his efforts. Of course, he was rarely truly done with anything, but it has been tested and is safe for immediate use. You will have to accept my assurances on that, I'm afraid."

Steve swallowed hard around the lump in his throat and reached out to touch the cool metal. "I... thanks. Thank you. This will help. You... can you tell me how to... I don't..."

"Of course, sir. When would you like to begin?"

"Now."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Steve considered sitting in the control room and waiting to hear from the team. He honestly did. For a full five minutes, he stood in the hallway outside. His feet started down the hall before he realized he'd made a decision not to go inside. The last time he'd been sitting in one of those chairs with a pickup in his ear, his whole world had come crashing down. It wasn't a feeling Steve was eager to repeat. 

Besides, there was work to do. Putting on the suit felt bizarre. It wasn't just that it didn't quite fit - he wasn't sure if Tony just hadn't ever had the chance to get his new dimensions or if he'd been hopeful that they'd be changing again - it was that he felt wrong wearing it at all. Tony was the one who wore the suit. It didn't matter that the colors were his own or that he'd seen Rhodey in the War Machine armor once or twice. That was different. Steve had no idea how, but it was different. 

Jarvis was painfully, endlessly patient in a way that Steve wasn't sure he was programmed for. Surely an AI programmed by Tony couldn't be that damn nice, but it didn't matter how painfully incompetent he was, Jarvis only responded with gentle suggestions of adjustments to make the next time. Their first sessions that morning had left his body a network of sore spots and bruises, but Steve had never let that stop him before. With the help of the bots, he strapped in and tried again. And again. He sighed with frustration every time an attempt to fly or stabilize himself ended up with him sprawled gracelessly on the floor. 

"Sir? Might I show you something?"

"Yeah. Of course, Jarvis," Steve answered, peeling himself up off of the floor and rolling his shoulders to try to ditch some of the tension built up in them. He wasn't particularly startled when a semi-transparent recording popped up in the air in front of him. He stopped breathing for a second when the image itself registered. Onscreen, Tony was gleefully strapping the armor on and just as gleefully ending up crumpled on the ground. In shot after shot, he watched Tony falling and crashing, laughing at the attempts or snapping at the bots depending on how badly it had gone. At first Steve smiled right along with him, relieved to hear Tony's voice and to see him because that felt a lot more right than the silent space where he belonged.

He barely realized when Jarvis shut the feed off because he was too busy sobbing into his folded arms, heedless of how uncomfortable it was resting his head on the cold metal. When he finally came around to the world outside his own head again, he heard Jarvis saying, "Keep trying, Sir. If Mr. Stark could learn, anyone can."

Steve smiled faintly through the tears. "Yeah. You got it, Jarvis. Thank you."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In the time he spent in the lab, Steve managed to bruise just about everything and split his lip. He breathed a sigh of relief when the bleeding stopped fairly quickly. It was a good sign. "Sir? I have a bit of good news. Agents Barton and Coulson have been retrieved. I've brought up the preliminary report that Agent Coulson submitted."

Steve was on his feet at once, shedding the metal shell with the help of the bots. "Are they okay? Can I see them?"

"They are rather exhausted after the ordeal, sir, and have requested a reprieve until the morning."

Though Steve deflated slightly at the news, he understood. Heart pounding, he pulled up the report and scanned it once he was free of the suit. They hadn't seen Loki. They hadn't seen anything that let them know where they were. The man sighed and slumped into a nearby chair. He'd hoped for more, but immediately felt guilty for that. Phil and Clint were alive and at least well enough to file a report, and that was a lot. That was enough. It had to be. They’d find a way to run a trace or track the transportation, and then they could close in. Hope wasn’t lost.


	12. Today We Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Avengers join Lady Sif to help free Frigga and Thor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We need some victories every now and then, right?

It was disconcerting to suddenly be standing in a gilded chamber with a rainbow bridge stretched out before them, but Natasha had recovered from stranger. Recently it seemed she was always recovering from something stranger. The woman drew herself up and studied the stoic man in gold armor. "Thank you."

Heimdall inclined his head. "You are most welcome, Fair Widow. Our prince has spoken highly of your skill. Now it is your hands to save him."

"We have a couple friends who need a hand too. Thor's would be preferred." Natasha smiled faintly and then followed Sif out onto a bridge that looked like it was made of light and air and echoed like it had metal running through it. She looked over to Bruce and raised an eyebrow. "So how are you liking alien worlds so far, Dr. Banner?"

He stepped uneasily onto the ethereal bridge, looking doubtful of its ability to hold them. "I think I'd prefer something more... concrete."

"One more terrible pun, and we could arrange that," Logan muttered with a solid eyeroll.

Bruce smirked back at the mutant, finding it amusing that Logan seemed almost as uncertain of the bridge's integrity as he was. He glanced back to Sif. "So what's our first stop? I can't imagine we'll go unnoticed long. Even less long under the... uh... wrong circumstances."

"We cross the bridge and join with my companions. They are equally frustrated with the current situation. Fandral is supposed to alert some of the guards we believe are sympathetic. That should be more than enough. We storm Lady Frigga's chambers first. Once she is safe, we will be free to face Thor as needed." 

"I've found cognitive re-calibration to be rather effective." Natasha smiled at the uncertain look the woman gave her. "We hit him hard. In the head."

Sif took the suggestion in stride. "It is a plan as good as any we have yet made." She led them carefully into the palace. As promised, there were enough guards aiding in their entry that it was a relatively simple task to get inside. A good way down from the lady's chambers, Sif turned to them. "Magneto will be with her. He will be ready. We must be as well. On my mark, we shall advance into the room. He must be restrained at once. The lady may well be able to assist us with her own skills if she is well and whole enough to do so."

 

"I'm just hoping we can hit Thor hard enough to get through his head," Bruce muttered. Thor was a great guy on all accounts, but he didn't rank in Bruce's book as one of the smartest. The scientist wondered offhandedly if he and Logan would get along. They seemed a little like soulmates, from what he'd seen of the mutant.

Logan smirked. "So, a guy with a metal skeleton against a guy that controls metal. Round two, matter o' fact," he observed. He gave Bruce a shrug. "Well, I guess you can do the whole smash thing if it comes right down to it."

Natasha tensed at the sound of approaching footsteps, but it was obvious from the way Sif greeted the trio of men that they were the allies she had mentioned. The blond approached, sweeping Natasha's hand into his own and bending to kiss it. "Fandral, at your service, my lady."

"I'd rather you be at Magneto's throat, but we can work on that," the woman answered, jerking her head down the hallway and meeting Sif's eyes. "Ready when you are. Banner? We might need the back up. Let's see how this goes." The Hulk was always a last resort, but he was a strong follow if they had need of it, uneasy as it made her. Bruce Banner was a good guy. The Hulk was a barely constrained monster. She preferred control whenever possible, and the potential chaos of his alter ego set her teeth on edge. 

Sif squared her shoulders and tipped her head back. "Now." She surged forward without a word, kicking in the doors at the end of the hallway and taking in the scene in a heartbeat. Thankfully the long lull in activity had apparently made them all too comfortable. The lady's mutant captor sat on a couch just inside with Lady Frigga at the window toward the back of the room. Sif raised her sword, the hilt clutched tight in her hand. "It would be in your best interest to surrender at once."

Magneto looked surprised and not just a little irritated, but otherwise unimpressed. "Shame. Such an advanced race, and you're still wielding sharpened metal sticks," he intoned, standing and casually lifting the blade in Sif's hands, bringing her with it. "My dear, you clearly have no clue what you're dealing with."

Logan, claws at the ready, didn't bother with platitudes. "Bruce, you're the one not made outta metal. Got a feelin' you're gonna be the one finishin' this," he warned. He lunged at Magneto, though wasn't terribly surprised when the other mutant stopped him mid-tackle. 

Hurriedly flinging her bracers aside, Natasha moved in. She knew it would be stupid to judge the man by his age or go easier on him for it. It just meant his bones would break a lot more easily. She rolled beneath Sif and moved to sweep the man's legs out from beneath his body. "I think we have a decent idea," she countered, leaping for the mutant and hoping that the blitz and a little pain would distract him enough to let the others get free.

Bruce made a point to stand aside, trying to edge toward Frigga. Logan might be right, but he preferred to at least try the easy way first. “Think you can help us out here, Your Highness?” 

Frigga drew herself up, offering Bruce a faint smile before lifting a hand. Her spells would not hold the man for long. She had yet to figure out whether his imperviousness had to do with his mutation or something else, something innate inside him that made him less susceptible to such things. With all the will she could muster, Frigga cast a spell to bind the man to the floor. "If you have means to restrain him, now would be the time."

Between Nat and Frigga, Magneto stood little chance, and Logan quickly recovered and dove in to restrain the man with a set of cuffs he yanked from Natasha's utility belt. Thankfully, SHIELD had the sense to not make them out of metal. "You might wanna relax, Lensherr. Not all of us have a metal core. And some of us have some anger issues," he said, trading looks with Bruce, who gave him a 'you're one to talk' look.

Bruce turned his attention to the Lady Frigga almost immediately, his brow creased. "Are you alright?"

"Bigger question is, what next? How do we fix your son?" Logan wanted to know. Frigga was clearly doing alright if not great, and Logan wasn't interested in waiting around until someone noticed they were there.

The woman sent a sad smile in Logan's direction. "Which one?" She shook her head before any of them could answer. "Thor is enchanted. I may be able to lift the spell. They have kept us apart, and I doubt they would have bothered was the spell not vulnerable to my magic. The guards are loyal, perhaps to a fault. They have followed my son without once asking why he has been acting so little like himself."

"Not all of them, my lady," Sif assured. "You will find that there are many to whom we have spoken. Once Thor is returned to himself, all will be well."

Natasha looked to Bruce. He was on the edge. She could see it in the tension of his shoulders and the way he held himself, as if he was afraid stepping the wrong way might wake the Other Guy up. "Be ready. If she can't zap him back to normal, we try the hitting him on the head thing. You're pretty much the only one who can do that without taking some bad hits themselves." Some of the assembled warriors made noises of protest, but Natasha simply arched an eyebrow at them. "One of you boys mind taking care of him?" she inquired, nodding toward Magneto. "We'll pick him up on the way home."

Fandral bowed and spread his arms wide. "Your wish is my command, my lady."

If he hadn't seemed so damned sincere, it would have been smarmy. As it was, Nat found the whole thing kind of funny. "Thanks. Now let's go wake up Thor before his brother can do anymore damage."

Logan laughed quietly to himself as they moved out, settling into step beside Natasha. "You know, I think blondie back there has a crush on you," he said with a wink. "Not that I can blame him."

Bruce overheard and was grateful for the laugh the exchange elicited. He hated the idea of having to fight Thor at all, and letting the Other Guy off the leash to do it sounded even worse. It was nice to know he had the Avengers as backup, though. "Maybe you should get his number before we go. You think Verizon covers this area?"

"I don't think anything but fairy tales cover this one," she returned lightly. Fandral was cute, but she wasn't interested in a long distance flirtation. Then again, something new and different when she was in the neighborhood... well, things happened. Natasha filed it away as a thought to revisit later. They were already close to the throne room. It didn't take knowing the layout to pick up on it. The guards were suddenly thick as flies around every entrance. She hung back, letting Sif and Frigga move to the forefront.

"Your queen requests passage to the throne room. Stand aside," Sif announced, her dark eyes challenging any of the men to protest the words.

One man stepped forward, "Our King has asked-"

"My son," Frigga broke in, her patience obviously thin, "will be most pleased to see me should you step aside." She glanced behind at the entourage and then back at the guards. "I have new companions to introduce him to and old friends with whom he should be reunited. I also have little patience for waiting."

Logan eyed the guards nervously as they stepped into Thor's inner chambers. There were more guards inside, and the situation looked like a potential shitshow right from the start. 

Bruce felt no less tense, and he positively wanted to disappear when Thor stood, hammer in hand, upon seeing them. "How... Isn't that only supposed to work if he's worthy of it?" Bruce wanted to know. 

"Well, maybe he is. Just... y'know...spells. Magic. Shit that doesn't exist," Logan replied. He hadn't expected Thor to be quite so... big. 

"Mother! Did I not order you to stay with the metalmancer for your safety? Why are you here?" Thor growled, glowering at them. 

"We are here to restore you to yourself," Frigga answered simply. She more or less ignored the guards. Even on Thor's orders, they would do her no harm. They might restrain her, might help him to "protect" her, but not a man among them was stupid enough to lay a finger on her with any other intent. 

Thor shook his head. "That is nonsense. You are to return to-"

"I am your queen and your mother," the woman replied, bringing every inch of her gravitas to bear on the words. Many of the guards flinched openly, and Natasha made a note not to piss Frigga off. Thor's mother definitely knew how to make herself intimidating. It was impressive. Frigga raised a hand, focusing on Thor, tendrils of glittering yellow spiraling out from her hands. Only the tight set of Frigga's jaw showed precisely how much effort the spell took. "Your brother has taken enough from all of us. Come back to me." 

Natasha and Sif flanked the woman, facing outward, ready for any of the guards to try to interrupt. Though a few of them looked as if they dearly wanted to, it took most of them a little too long to work off the shock. By the time the first man started forward, they were already being met by Hogun and Volstagg. Natasha and Sif met the next wave to think they were good enough to interfere. Natasha smiled grimly as she brought an elbow down onto the neck of an Asgardian. She spared only a glance toward Frigga and Thor to determine that the woman wasn't being inhibited before her attention went back fully to the massive, armored foes.

Logan managed to make a few of the guards hesitate just by showing them the claws, but they didn't pause for long, flinging themselves at him. Not particularly wanting to kill folks who were more than likely just misled, Logan retracted the claws and settled for pure fury and adamantium-laced punches, grinning more broadly than was at all healthy as he fought. He paused at the sound of an enraged roar, though, and he and his assailants turned their eyes toward the other side of the fracas as the Hulk loomed up and flung a few guards across the room. "And that's why you don't start with the little guy," he said, breaking the jaw of one of the distracted guards. Gentlemen's rules were for friendly barroom brawls.

Hulk flung a few more guards into a pillar, stomping at another group as they tried to get out of his way and leaving a good dent in the stonework floor. He caught another guard by the ankle and used him to as a weapon to knock over another half dozen armored figures. Hulk had managed to swing the man at the floor a few times before a shout rang out. "Puny gods!"

"STOP! Everyone, stand down! Please, stop fighting!" Thor had set his hammer down beside his throne and was holding his hands up and out.

Everyone froze mid-swing. Except Hulk, who gave his opponent one last smack against the floor before releasing the trembling man to scowl at Thor.

In the wake of the spell, Frigga sagged, looking ready to fall over, and Sif closed in to bolster her without a word. Natasha swept her gaze to the Hulk, glad to see he was holding himself in for the moment. She hoped that if things went well, they'd have Bruce back in short order. "So," she ventured after a brief silence, "long time no see." The woman squared her shoulders and took a tentative step closer. If Thor really wasn't back to himself and decided to lash out, she preferred taking the hit to leaving Frigga or Sif in the path of destruction. They both had a better chance of taming an angry Thor in the end than she did herself. "I think we need to have a nice, long talk not involving so much punching. What d'ya say?"

Thor nodded his agreement. "That would be well, Lady Widow," he said, settling tiredly back into his throne as the guards warily returned to their posts. "I am afraid that, owing to my brother, I have not been myself."

"We kinda figured that when the little shitbird showed up on Earth and started wreckin' things without you comin' to help," Logan noted, crossing his arms over his chest. He glanced back at Hulk, glad to note he seemed to be calming down a little, though he was still glowering at a few of their prior opponents.

The god looked at Logan, and his brow furrowed. "I am afraid I do not know you, friend."

"Friend's a strong word. But I'm Logan. I'm with your Avenger buddies, if you hadn't guessed."

"Good, then! We shall have to drink and tell tales when things are less grim," Thor replied with a nod. He turned his attention to Lady Frigga, standing again. He knew he might well be taken as hostile, but the sight of his mother so obviously weakened wouldn't stand unheeded. He stepped toward her, holding his hand out. "Mother... are you well? Did Loki hurt you? I swear, this time I will not be so lenient with him when he is found."

"I am tired, my son. I would like to see your father. Go, see to your true duties." Frigga heels Thor fast for a moment and kissed him on each cheek. "We will speak on your return."

Natasha waited until Thor led the way before she moved. The woman paused and finally told the guards, "Keep an eye on the big guy." She hoped that Bruce would be able to join them, but after the fight, she knew it might be awhile. Before Thor could say anything, Natasha told him, "Stark is dead. Barton and Coulson were taken. Cap... well, he's not on the roster at the moment. We need you and anyone else you can spare, and we need to get rid of Loki once and for all."

Thor retrieved his hammer from near his throne before leading them out of the room, leaving a message with the guards to ensure Bruce would rejoin them and to inform everyone of what had happened. Natasha's rundown brought a pained look to the god's face as he lead them to a more private room and bid them to sit. "You wish my help in slaying my brother," he said quietly, settling heavily on a cushioned bench.

"If you ain't helpin', we're gonna figure out a way to do it," Logan returned, folding his arms across his chest. "I've already died a few times tryin', and one of us died for good."

"The Man of Iron?" The god looked on the verge of tears as Logan nodded. "You have mourned him?"

"We haven't had time. And your brother took off with his corpse." Logan raised his eyebrows as Thor's expression immediately shifted to anger. //Someone's full of feelings.//

"Loki stole his remains?" Thor was on his feet, hammer in hand, and he began pacing. "The cowardice! The dishonor! The-"

"Look, we're all pretty pissed. Bottom line is, your brother's back on Earth tearin' the place apart for what looks like that mallet's evil twin. And, y'know, tyin' up old vendettas while he's at it."

"And, yes, we wish your help in killing him. We brought him in last time. It didn't work out. We need to eliminate the threat," Natasha answered, gaze cool and measured. "I'm guessing you've realized that at this point. If he can use you to rule in his stead and control you, threaten your mother, kill Tony... it's off the rails. There's no end game that doesn't involve him dead in my book."

Thor looked troubled at the thought but after a long stretch of silence allowed, "I am with you."

"Good. I was hoping you'd say that. Think one or two of your friends could come along for the ride? I'm guessing Frigga can handle things up here, and we need all the help we can get. Between Loki and his new buddies, this isn't exactly going to be a cake walk. More casualties aren't acceptable. Especially not Barton and Coulson." Whatever happened, Natasha was set on bringing her boys home. They were the most central part of the odd collection of people she was willing to consider family. "If it's still possible, we also need to bring Tony's body home. Rogers deserves the closure."

Thor nodded. "We will. This act of cowardice will not stand. And the Son of Coul and the Hawk will not be left to my brother's whims." He said the words softly, though. Even with Loki's most recent crimes, it was difficult to wrap his head around killing his brother. "The Lady Sif will accompany us. I... I do not wish to involve more of our friends in this grim task, necessary though it may be." He moved toward the door. "Let us go now. There is no reason for delay."

"Well, there might be one or two. We need to get the mean, green rage machine back. And I think it might be a little impolite to leave Magneto here to wear out his welcome."

"Thor, would you and Sif mind grabbing Magneto? I don't think Logan should be alone with him. As long as Magneto is conscious, I don't like the odds on him getting his skeleton ripped out." Natasha waited until Thor consented before she turned to Logan. "You're with me getting Bruce to calm down." Oddly she had a feeling Logan's abrasive manner might help. He was a little like Tony in some ways, and Tony had always brought out the gentler side even of the Hulk. It was an odd miracle she was more than willing to capitalize on. "We'll meet you at the shiny bridge with our rainbow shoes on." 

They found the guards in the other room staring at the Hulk warily from the opposite side of the room. Natasha let her appreciation of their intelligence tick up a notch. "Hey, big guy," she began, carefully moving in a bit closer. Her own experiences with the Hulk had been somewhat less than pleasant. "We need to see about calming down and getting home. The sooner we do, the sooner we get to go find Loki and smash him into paste."

Hulk scowled at Loki's name. "Puny god!" he growled, smacking a chunk out of the floor and giving everyone present a good reason to flinch.

"Hey! Yeah, puny god. Got it." Logan carefully put himself between Nat and Hulk. Considering what he'd seen Banner do earlier, he was pretty sure he had a lot better odds if Big Green decided he needed a pat on the back. "But you're not comin' back with us like that. We gotta go get our buddies, alright?"

The Hulk faked a lunge and growled threateningly at Logan, smirking cockily when Logan flinched a little. He seemed to be shrinking and looking a little less rabid. "Smash Loki?"

Logan glanced back at Natasha to see if agreeing was the right idea, then nodded back to Bruce. "Yeah. We're gonna smash 'im. We'll need your help, Banner. You're comin' back with us, right? You gotta calm down to do that..."

As Logan spoke, the Hulk seemed to shrink back into himself until all that was left was Bruce, clinging to the waistband of what was left of his pants for the sake of modesty. "I should... really learn to wear more elastic," he muttered shakily, still looking faintly greenish but obviously in control of himself once more. He looked around at the still-terrified guards, smirking faintly as he looked back to Logan. "Let's go home. Much fun as playing around on an alien world might be..."

"Yeah. No place like home. Let's go," Logan said, obviously relieved as he gestured for Natasha to go first.

"Don't worry, we'll ask Thor to take us up on vacation sometime," Natasha assured. She felt at ease the second Bruce was Bruce again. From inside one of the pockets on her belt, she passed the man his glasses. "Thought you might need these unbroken." They found Thor and Sif, both grim-faced, waiting with a bound and gagged Magneto at the bridge. "You really should learn to pick better allies." From what she'd seen in his file, Magneto wasn't an idiot. He also wasn't a garden variety villain. He just had a really screwed up idea of what qualified as helping. "The guy you hitched your star to? He's a certifiable nut job."

Thor tensed at the words but didn't bother debating them. As badly as it hurt to think so, the Widow was correct. Loki had to be dealt with. "Come, my friends. We have a task to accomplish." 

Natasha paused as they reached Heimdall's impassive visage. "You see everything?"

The man's golden gaze cut down toward her. "I do."

"We need to know where Loki is, and we need to know now."

Heimdall glanced at Thor, who gave him a nod, then looked back to Natasha. "He is in a cave beneath what you on Midgard know as the Gobe desert."

"China," Bruce murmured, shaking his head.

"Figures," Logan grunted.

Heimdall glanced at the mutant. "Shall I send you there?"

Bruce shook his head, pointing at Magneto with the hand that wasn't holding his pants up. "I think we'd better put him in containment first. Back to SHIELD HQ. We can find the cave with satellites now that we know which area to look in."

The gatekeeper nodded. "As you wish."

In moments, they were back in New York, and Logan was starting to feel certain that he'd be throwing up if he were of any lesser constitution. How Bruce and Natasha managed to deal with it was enough to impress him. "So, Fury's gonna want an update."

"Thor, would you help me drop our friend off-"

"You're back!" Simmons' voice was elated, and Natasha registered quickly that she was too happy for the news to only be that. The girl obviously had a thing for Bruce, but that wasn't enough to have her grinning like an idiot and waving her hands at them as she hurried out of the building at a fast clip with Fitz on her heels. "Sorry, I know you probably all need- oh, but it's wonderful news!"

Fitz rolled his eyes. "Jemma?"

"Oh, yes, right." She put her shoulders back and grinned. "Agents Coulson and Barton are back. They're safe. Well, relatively. They went to medical, but it was routine, I suppose, and they're still being debriefed, but they're back!"

The news was honestly enough to make Natasha weak in the knees, though the only thing that betrayed how she felt was a faint upward twitch of her lips. "It's about time we got some good news. Come on, Thor. Let's drop off our guest and then we can see if they're up for visitors. Logan, can you show Lady Sif around and fill Summers and Rogers in on what's happening? Bruce... get dressed."

Thor hoisted Magneto off his feet and gave the man an angry shake, glowering at him as he set him back down. "No trouble from you, mage." He knew better than to think Erik's age had anything to do with his ability to wreak havoc.

They took Magneto down to the very deepest depths of the building, locking him away in a plastic cell. Thor smirked as the agents around them stared in awe at him, reflecting how tiny they were as he followed Nat back out of the cell block. "So now we meet with the Hawk and the Son of Coul?"

 

"Yes," Natasha agreed. She'd already checked with Jarvis to find out where they were - Coulson's suite, naturally. She needed to see them both, to see real, honest evidence that they were back and whole. The fact that they hadn't come out on their own made her edgy. Whatever had happened, it had been more than just captivity. Natasha had seen both men bounce back in less than an hour from that. She swallowed the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach and walked silently next to Thor to the elevator. No motion betrayed her feelings, though someone who knew the woman well might have spotted the faintest hint of tension around her mouth. She knocked heavily on Coulson's door as soon as they reached it. 

It wasn't a surprise to have visitors, really, but Phil found himself still having to take a deep breath before he went to the door. Going over the attack with a shrink had been hard even though the doctor was one he'd spoken to before. That almost made it worse. They'd both survived their assessments, though, and to Phil's surprise the doctors seemed to think that they would be ready for field work again when they felt ready. It was no surprise to see Natasha on the other side of the door, but it was a surprise to see Thor standing behind her. "Come in, please." He stepped aside to let them in and cast a glance toward Clint, checking the man's reactions.

Thor had pulled Coulson into a rib-crunching hug before the man got a chance to see it coming. "Son of Coul! How have you been, my friend?" he exclaimed happily.

Clint had been half asleep against Phil's chest when the knock had come, and he was still on the couch, really hating the idea of talking to people. Seeing it was Nat, though, drove him to his feet, and he grabbed her and pulled her into a quick hug. He glanced at Thor, who was holding Phil like the man was his favorite teddy bear that he'd lost months ago, and it was hard to suppress the instinct to pry the god away. Thor's bulk momentarily reminded him a little too much of Creed, and Clint had to very carefully will that impression away. Thor was definitely not hostile. He might have posed a little threat, though. "Uh, Thor... He's got a few bruises you're probably crushing," Clint said, trying to keep his tone from sounding like a death threat.

The Asgardian released Phil and, still grinning broadly, held him by the shoulders. "It is good to see you whole and well, my friend!"

"It's good to see you too," Phil answered honestly despite the aching of his body protesting the rough treatment. He knew that Thor meant it only as affection, and they could both use plenty of that after what they'd been through. "We were worried." 

Natasha nodded. "And pissed." She remained close to Clint, lingering and watching him, trying to get a bead on what was going on in his head. Phil wasn't likely to flinch. Clint was, at least around her. Quietly, she asked, "Are you? Well and whole?" Sometimes it was easiest to just ask even if it hurt to know the truth.

Having overheard the question, Phil glanced in their direction. While he wasn't looking to advertise the details, it wasn't fair to the team to not know that they were in bad shape. He shrugged faintly, leaving it up to Clint how much he wanted to reveal.

Clint shifted uncomfortably as he looked to Nat. He knew she could probably see his anxiety, even if most people wouldn't have. He started to tell her he was fine anyway, knowing that she'd take it as a signal to leave him alone if nothing else. He realized, though, that shutting out one of his closest friends was probably not the best route to recovery. "I... We're not. Not really," he said quietly, averting his gaze uneasily. He knew intellectually that he had nothing to fear from Nat, but it was still uncomfortable telling her. "Maybe... maybe we can talk when we have some privacy. The three of us." He didn't want Phil left out. The man had a right to know what was said and give his own perspective if he felt like it.

Natasha nodded. "Okay," she agreed simply. "For now, how about something to eat?" The pair had been holed up alone in Phil's suite almost exclusively since their return from what she'd heard. They needed to get out in the world and be reminded of the people who cared about them. She smiled faintly at Thor. "Lunch sound good to you?"

"A feast is called for with our companions returned!" he agreed heartily, clapping a hand against Coulson's back as if he hadn't just been warned to treat the man's bruised body carefully.

Though he winced, Phil still nodded his agreement. "I could eat. And the couch is going to get a permanent dent in it if we don't get off of it sometimes." He held back from holding a hand out to Clint, not sure how it would be taken in front of their friends.

"Lunch would be fine." He didn't want to, but Phil was right. Clint kept his hands to himself as well. It was less a matter of self consciousness and more a matter of his disinterest in explaining things to Thor or getting a boisterous celebration hug crushed into his stitched up back. Instead, the archer pressed himself in as close as he could to Phil, making sure that he brushed against the man frequently as they walked. It was all he could do to not try and press his head to Coulson's shoulder as they moved. 

Thor seemed oblivious to the pair's proximity, instead offering Clint a wince-inducing slap on the back as they left. "It is good to see you as well, friend Hawk. We must talk of our exploits over good drink when things are more calm. Perhaps I could bring you to Asgard and let you test your mettle against the bilgesnipe!"

"Uh, sounds great," Clint muttered, wondering what the hell a bilgesnipe was.

"He mentioned them once. They sounded hideous," Phil observed, earning a hearty nod of agreement from Thor. "You'd probably enjoy it."

"Aye, it would be a truly great challenge for so fine a hunter!"

Phil ducked his head to hide a broader smile at the image of Clint chasing down mythical monsters on Asgard. 

Natasha wasn't blind to the way the men hovered close to one another. It didn't bother her, precisely, save that it was a reminder that they'd been through something she didn't yet understand. Whatever it was, Loki would pay for it.


	13. Like Normal People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce & Jemma finally go on that coffee date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much pure fluff. These two are sort of precious.

Bruce offered Nat a wry grin at her suggestion that he dress and nodded. "Yeah, think that'd be best." He glanced at Jemma and his smile turned more awkward as he pulled his shredded pants a little closer to himself. "I'll, uh... need to change, but... coffee in a bit?" He knew they'd be loading up for another mission soon - for which he reminded himself to pack something with more give in it - but he wanted to make sure he got that damn coffee before he went anywhere else.

"Half an hour," Simmons agreed. "I could use a shower." She'd spent most of her time holed up in the lab. Jarvis had given Fitz-Simmons access to a few files which Tony had authorized the release of. She knew that most of the good stuff belonged to Stark Industries, but even Tony's lesser formulas and files had proved utterly fascinating. The young woman ignored Fitz' warning glare entirely as she made her way upstairs. After a quick shower, she changed into a sundress that was attractive without looking like she was trying too hard. For once she left her hair down. All in all the preparation took just over fifteen minutes, and Simmons sighed when she glanced at the clock. There were definite downsides to being almost pathologically punctual. She grabbed her purse and headed downstairs anyway, knowing she'd never manage to focus on anything long enough to be worth spending the few minutes doing more than waiting.

Bruce was pretty sure he hadn't put more than two seconds' thought into what he was going to wear in years. Going through his wardrobe, it was hard to feel like he had any decent options. He finally settled on his typical button-down shirt tucked into his jeans, then spent what felt like forever fooling with his hair before leaving his room looking more or less the way he always did. He was also painfully early, and he couldn't help but smile when he caught sight of Jemma already waiting for him. //Wow.// "You look nice," he said, feeling oddly nervous. That was an understatement. Jemma looked incredible in the sun dress with her hair down. Bruce suddenly felt woefully sloppy in spite of having a fresh shave, but still managed a smile. "So, you know all the coffee shops within five miles of here. Any recommendations?"

"Of course. I know just the place," Jemma agreed. She was desperately pleased to find that she wasn't the only one who not only ran early but who was also relatively low maintenance. In younger years, she'd seen it as some sort of feminine failing that it took her all of ten minutes to get ready most mornings, though as she'd gotten older, Jemma realized that there was something to be said for not spending half her life in front of a mirror. After a few moments, Jemma found her courage and assured, "You look rather handsome yourself, by the way." The coffee shop she led them to was close but around a corner and stuffed between two other shops. "I didn't even see it the first time I walked by." Inside it was quietly charming, somewhere between Starbucks and a grandmother's living room. "They make the absolute best hot chocolate I've ever had."

Bruce couldn't help the smile that split his face. He'd blushed at the earlier compliment, and it was hard to find Jemma talking about hot chocolate anything but profoundly endearing. All things considered, it was nice to have something to smile about. He knew there'd be time for mourning and grim strategizing later. For one little moment, he was damn well going to enjoy himself. "I like this place," he decided. It was quiet, cozy, and didn't remind him at all of any of the miserable recent events. "I think hot chocolate sounds good." He'd originally planned to grab some kind of coffee, but comfort foods sounded a lot better. "Maybe a muffin, too."

"You have to try the pumpkin," Simmons insisted, stepping up to the counter and ordering for both of them without thinking. She did it most of the time, making coffee runs for herself and Fitz, and only afterward realized it might be a bit pushy. "Sorry. Habit. Bad habit, probably. It's actually been... well, since I got out of the academy, I haven't had much time for dating. SHIELD is rather all encompassing, I find." Normally she absolutely adored the challenge of being presented with one truly impossible puzzle after another, but there were days when Simmons wondered how she was supposed to make a life of her own when it seemed that SHIELD owned every inch of her.

"It's alright," Bruce said, passing the barista his card before Jemma could beat him to it. "You'll just have to make it up by letting me pay." Once they'd settled in to wait for their drinks, Bruce raised an eyebrow at Jemma. "So, aside from being an incredible genius, how'd you end up with SHIELD?"

 

The young woman blushed more furiously at that than she had at the compliment to her looks earlier in the evening. The truth was that what was under the surface had always been far more interesting to her. "I was recruited, contacted by an agent and, after a great many interviews... well, it was Fitz and I together, really. We're the youngest people to graduate the SHIELD Science Academy, which, as it turns out, is prestigious and rather time consuming. What about you? What convinced you to sign on?"

Bruce gave her a wry smile, leaning back long enough for the barista to drop off their beverages before he answered, "Well, when Agent Romanov and a hundred of SHIELD's finest ask you nicely to do a little scientific consulting, you don't say no. And then you apparently stick around for the interstellar war and the camaraderie."

"Mmm, the war is rather riveting," Jemma answered in a dry tone before bursting into a smile. "Honestly, I don't think I'll ever really get used to that. I'm not even part of it, and it... well, it's rather jarring. I think I prefer the camaraderie bit." She offered him a shy smile, "That's been rather pleasant." She sipped at her hot chocolate to hide a rising blush. She'd actually been rather popular at the academy, but that didn't change the fact that Jemma inevitably felt uncertain when getting to know anyone knew. In part that came from the comfort of always having Fitz as a counterpart. She didn’t often need anyone else and thus had only had to venture out of her comfort zone when she really wanted to for one reason or another. "I'm glad that you allowed yourself to be persuaded away from... where were you?"

"The outskirts of Calcutta," Bruce said, still looking amused. "Hiding from myself." He sighed. "You know, I always figured that I should run and hide from people, that that was the safest way for me to... well." He fiddled with his mug a little self consciously. "I almost left again after New York." He glanced out the window. It was starting to rain a little. He huffed a soft laugh. "It's a little crazy, but... it was Tony that kept me around. He's such an ass, but he doesn't treat me like a hand grenade someone lost the pin to." Bruce caught himself a moment later. "Didn't." He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, looking away and biting his bottom lip. "Sorry. Sorry, I'm kind of killing the mood, aren't I?" he said, his voice shaking a little.

 

Jemma's hand closed tightly over Bruce's, and she gave a decisive shake of her head. "No, you're grieving for your friend. You two were obviously close. I'd be a bit worried if you weren't thinking about it." She smiled slightly and squeezed his hand again. "I'm here because I'd like to get to know you. Knowing who you care about is definitely part of that."

Bruce allowed himself a few tears, holding onto Jemma's hand gratefully as he tried to keep himself from breaking down completely. Once he'd regained a little bit of composure, he dabbed at his eyes and blew his nose on a napkin before looking up and offering Jemma a smile. "Thank you," he said earnestly, giving her hand a squeeze before finally relinquishing it and sipping at his cocoa. "Well, at least I have a reason or two to stick around, still." Frankly, he couldn't imagine going anywhere else. At least people in the Tower treated him like he was halfway normal, and SHIELD knew what to do if the Other Guy turned up. Still, he had a feeling he'd relate to Jemma and Fitz a lot better than the rest of the Tower's denizens.

"I’d like to think you do," Jemme agreed. The truth was that rather than being bothered by the grief, she felt better knowing that Bruce was so comfortable around her. He kept to himself a great deal, and she knew there weren't many people he broke down around in any sense of the word. "Fitz is just a bit jealous - not, I mean... it isn't romantic, but we just... we've been each other's for a long time. He takes it hard when he loses my time." She offered an apologetic smile. "That doesn't mean he doesn't like you, though. He's just a bit of a harder sell is all."

"I think the fact that he believes I'm a walking time bomb might have something to do with it." Seeing that Jemma was about to apologize, Bruce held up a hand and gave her a reassuring look. "I don't blame him. He's looking out for you, Jemma." He took a sip of cocoa and slouched in his chair, looking a little uncomfortable. "It is a pretty big risk, you know. Spending a lot of time around me."

"Spending time around anyone is a risk. Not to downplay the situation," she added before Bruce could protest. "I know this is... unique, but... well, somehow I doubt this is the first date you've been on. Which means that you've probably been on one or two that led to a disaster of varying proportions. It doesn't always have to involve an alien invasion to go very, very badly. I prefer worrying less about what could go wrong and worrying more about the things that might go right." Though she wasn't quite sunny enough to be an optimist - Jemma wasn't sure anyone who really was could survive the Academy, let alone SHIELD - she tried. It was too easy to get caught up in the dark otherwise and forget why they did what they did. "I like you. You're probably one of the few people in the world, quite literally, with whom I can have an intellectual discussion as an equal. There are a lot of things that could go right."

Bruce grinned broadly at that. "I thought I was supposed to be the old, wise one here," he teased, grabbing a bite of muffin. "Alright, fine. So we're alright with the possibility of an impromptu third wheel, then. And you're right: I don't get to talk to many people that can keep up with me and who also happen to be cute and single." He blushed a little a second after the words were out, but didn't retract them. "So, I think I promised to tell you about my recent vacation. Anything in particular you're curious about? Keeping in mind that I didn't get much of a chance to stop and smell the... well, whatever they have up there that passes for roses."

Jemma smiled, though it faded into something like a wince when she suggested, "Everything?" The young woman laughed and took a sip of her hot chocolate. "Honestly, I'd love to hear anything you remember. We have some files, things that people have gathered from Thor or Loki, but it's all piecemeal, and not very satisfying. It's an alien world! What was the Bifrost like?" The bridge sounded absolutely awe-inspiring even when reading between the lines of a rather dry report. 

"Pretty. Terrifying. Also, pretty terrifying," Bruce concluded. He shrugged. "It was really fascinating, honestly. I'd love to know the underlying components. It looked to be made of light, but it resonated like metal." He smiled faintly. "I may or may not have waited for the others to cross first." Bruce didn't consider himself overly brave. "Heimdall was interesting, too. He apparently sees everything. Like, everything, everything. I'm sure Fury's jealous."

"And I'm going to start wearing something in the shower," Jemma returned only to turn beat red and duck her head. "Uh, not that I want you to think- I... well, moving on." She was still pink but obviously determined not to think too much about it. "I don't blame you letting the others take the lead. It sounds as if it would be a bit intimidating. Especially with not knowing who your friends are when you arrive." It was a comfort to know that Thor was on their side again. The man could well be the difference between victory and defeat against Loki. As if on cue, Bruce's phone chimed softly. "I won't be offended if you check that. What we do doesn't always allow for delays."

Bruce sighed, grudgingly dragging the phone out of his pocket, positive he was being recalled right then and there. Thankfully, it was just an update. "Looks like we roll out before dawn," he said, then glanced up at Jemma. "But I guess I get to finish our date, at least." He had to breathe carefully to knock back the edge of anxiety he felt at the thought of the upcoming confrontation. Letting the Hulk loose was on his list of things he least enjoyed, right under root canals, and there was added anxiety as well. "Looks like Barton's going to be bringing the hammer."

Jemma's eyebrows rose up toward her hairline. "Uh, is that... is that a good... nevermind," she decided halfway through the question. It really didn't matter whether it was a good idea or not. It was probably the only idea, and she knew it. Instead of dwelling, Jemma smiled faintly. "Well, I am glad to hear that we get to finish this. I'd hate for you to only have half a muffin. They're divine, aren't they?" She could read the anxiety easily enough. Bruce needed a distraction. She was completely fine with the idea of providing one.

Bruce couldn't help the smile that crept onto his lips. He knew she was trying to distract him, and it was definitely endearing. "They are pretty amazing," he said, giving her a dopey grin before blushing and refocusing his attention on the muffin. He took a couple bites, then shook his head. "I know what you're wondering. With Barton, I mean. I guess the hammer's attached to him somehow now. He's the only one that can use it."

"Which means him being dead would be the only way for Thor to be the one who wields it," Jemma continued with a soft groan. "Well, that... it explains a lot. And makes things more complicated." She winced. "It also explains... well, of course it drains energy. No one but Clint was supposed to touch it, so it punished anyone else who..." She lifted a hand to rub at her forehead before smiling sadly at Bruce. "We didn't have enough data."

"We couldn't get any more than we had," Bruce reminded her gently. "Remember? It was creating too much interference." He frowned. "My fault, really. That we decided to keep Clint from using it again. I thought we were going to protect everyone. Just like I thought I was protecting Steve by not helping with the serum." He sighed, then smiled ruefully. "Guess it's time I learned to quit being such a mother hen, huh?"

Jemma managed a faint smile in return. "We all have our failings... and we both know that if you hadn't ultimately decided to help with the serum, Fitz and I might never have figured it out at all. Certainly not in time to be of help." It had been a near thing as it was, and judging from the way Steve had looked the last time she got a glimpse of him, it would still be a few days before he was back to normal. The cells were proving more sluggish to respond than she would've liked, mostly because so little of the serum had been left. "It isn't one person's fault, what happened... it... we all worked together. Even Mr. Stark. We didn't have another plan."

Bruce nodded, taking another bite of the muffin. "Really is good, y'know," he muttered, trying to focus on enjoying the present moment. Things were going to turn ugly soon enough. "We did do the best we could with what we knew, I suppose." He gave Jemma's hand another squeeze and a genuine smile. "Thank you. For not letting me kick myself too much, I mean."

"You don't deserve it." She let her thumb stroke over the back of Bruce's hand in a gentle, soothing gesture. "Or we all do. It's better that we remember that we did our best." Jemma knew that if the same situation presented itself again in the same way, they would all make the same calls, or ones close enough to them that nothing would change. They had done their best with what they had. "With any luck - and I believe we've earned a bit of that - it won't be a problem for much longer."

"Yeah, looks like it," Bruce agreed, hoping that solving that problem didn't involve losing another teammate. He wasn't sure any of them could cope with that. "We've got Thor back, and at least Clint can survive using the hammer, theoretically. Having him alive means he has a chance of recovery, however long it takes."

"It's a strong step in the right direction," Jemma agreed, "and if any of the difficulties he encounters are chemical rather than, well, magical, we should be able to help even more." Psychology was a long way from her area of expertise, and the same was certainly true of whatever properties Asgardian technology dealt with. A chemical imbalance or other true scientific interruption of Clint's normal bodily functions was a puzzle she could work to solve, especially with Bruce and Fitz working on the problem as well. "What do you say we take a stroll through the park before we head back? I think a bit of fresh air might do us good."

"I say that sounds fantastic," Bruce decided, standing and offering a hand to Jemma. He stepped into the warm afternoon sun, walking slowly and grateful for just how pleasantly normal it all felt. "But I thought you didn't believe in Asgardian magic," he teased as they walked. "I thought it was all just technology we don't understand."

"It is," Jemma answered, her eyes sparkling. She was flattered that he'd remembered, silly and small a thing as that was. "That doesn't mean that it can't seem like magic. Awful as it is to say, I almost wish that we could get hold of Loki for awhile, study him... well, that's neither here nor there." There wasn't much chance of that unless it was to perform an autopsy. When the Avengers went after Loki this time, it wouldn't be to bring him in as a prisoner. "Once things are more settled, maybe we could have a proper dinner together?" They weren't even done with one casual date, and she knew that fishing for a second might be pushing things, but it was going well. Being with Bruce was surprisingly comfortable, and she hoped that he felt the same way.

"I think it should be more like we'll definitely have dinner together," Bruce decided, smiling broadly. He'd been running it through his head as they walked how he'd ask for a follow-up date, and he was relieved that Jemma had beat him to the punch. "I know a great Italian place. Not too fancy, but good food." He got the feeling that neither of them wanted to go anywhere with a dress code. Though he was pretty sure he'd be more than happy to see her in sun dresses anytime she cared to wear one. "I think they have a live pianist on Friday nights."

Jemma beamed, relieved that she hadn't pushed too hard or assumed too much. "That," she replied as she took Bruce's hand, "sounds like perfection. Italian is my second favorite actually, right after Thai. Mostly tom kha soup. I have an absolute addiction to the stuff. And to manicotti. And cannoli. Thank God for excellent metabolism, actually, because I love to eat."

Bruce genuinely laughed, and it felt good. When he realized it might seem a little weird, he gave Jemma's arm a gentle squeeze. "I'm not laughing at you. I'm just... I guess it just feels good to see someone so enthusiastic about something so simple. Not that I don't appreciate your mad scientist moments, too," he added with a grin. "If they do bring Loki back alive, I think I'm going to want to see you scare him into thinking he's the next 'Alien Autopsy' star."

 

Jemma smiled sweetly in return. "Make him think that? No. That would be cruel... to science. I think we owe the community the real thing." It was nice seeing Bruce laughing, to see some of the worry lifting from his shoulders even if it was only for a moment. There would be a new mission and a new problem and new worries in the near future. A warmer smile broke the threat, and she shook her head. "I'm coward enough that I hope I don't get that close to him either way unless I absolutely have to. Or he is dead. Then it would be rather fascinating, actually."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, then shook his head with a smirk. "Well, hopefully we won't be doing any vivisection, at any rate. I think that might be a little unethical. Even on Loki," he pointed out. He chuckled. "Not to mention, I don't think I could handle all the complaining Fitz would do." He nudged Jemma with his shoulder. "I'm sure if he's still alive when you do get that close to him, his brother will be there to make sure you're safe. Or me." 'Safe' would be a lot more relative if the Hulk had to protect Jemma, but Bruce couldn't resist the impulse to be a little protective.

Jemma stretched up and placed a quick kiss on Bruce's cheek, then looked entirely pleased with herself despite being red as a beet. They'd already established that a second date was a foregone conclusion. It seemed reasonable to assume that at least that small gesture might not be amiss. She hoped. Jemma cast a nervous glance Bruce's way. "I know that I need to get you back so that you can rest and prepare and... well, thank you for giving me such a big piece of the time you had today. With a place like this, time is probably the most valuable commodity we have."

Bruce couldn't quite stifle the giddy laugh - near-giggle - that escaped him at the kiss, and he did a respectable job of turning red right along with Jemma. He sighed, sobering at the reminder of what was ahead of them. Pausing in their walk, he took both of Jemma's hands and smiled at her warmly. "This was definitely time well spent. I should thank you right back," he said, meeting her gaze evenly. He brushed his thumbs over her knuckles. "You've definitely made a rough day a lot better. Thank you." Without waiting for an answer, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to hers, drawing back after a moment with a smile.

"That is rather a lovely thank you," she answered, blushing and smiling and feeling her heart flutter nervously. "Shall we?" Jemma nodded toward the tower. It wasn't that she was eager to get back, but she knew there were larger things afoot. Bruce might well be called on to do things that she knew made him feel terrible. "For the record, if you're up to it when things are taken care of tomorrow, you're always welcome to come and hide in the lab with us, decompress."

"I think I will," Bruce decided. "Maybe after a nap. But I will definitely take you up on that. Especially if it means getting to poke and prod Loki. Particularly the poking part. With sharp things." He meandered back toward the building slowly. He knew that he wouldn't get much sleep that night, and there was no point in rushing back when the company was so nice. "I'd like to get a look at how Steve's vitals are doing after the fight, too. I'm really impressed with his improvement so far."

 

"We'll give them a look tomorrow afternoon if all goes well," Jemma agreed, "but I've had Jarvis keeping an eye out for me. It looks good. The arrhythmia is almost gone, and his breathing is more or less normal. He's putting on weight, a bit of height..." She beamed a smile again. "It's working. Thanks to you. It's fantastic to have some truly, honestly good news."

"It is," Bruce agreed, daring to take advantage of the proximity and slip an arm around Jemma's waist. Maybe it was moving too fast. Probably not by regular person standards, of course. By their standards, maybe. But things in SHIELD had a way of going south on a regular basis, and he'd be damned if he didn't take a few liberties in case he didn't get to have that second date for a long time... or ever. "I'd be interested to see how things work out in the field. Good news is, looks like the suit will help Jarvis keep an eye on him even while he's away."

"I'll be in the lab tomorrow watching the readouts and relaying any relevant information to the people calling the shots," Jemma agreed. She happily edged in against Bruce as they walked. He smelled like chocolate and soap, and she couldn't help but smile at the combination. "The suit should help cover for anything that isn't back to normal yet. He may not be able to heal like usual, but with the suit as an extra layer of protection and Jarvis assisting him with the controls, he should be able to avoid taking any hits to begin with. Ideally."

Bruce smiled faintly. He knew how well adapted Steve was to modern technology. Which was to say, he wasn't. Still, the man had more or less been living in Tony's lab, no doubt trying to get the suit to work. And no doubt trying to be as close to Tony's memory as he could. "If we had a little more time, I'd suggest Fitz find a way to adapt that nanotech he developed for Tony's last..." He trailed off for a moment. "His last suit," he finished quietly. Clearing his throat, he looked up. "Well, it might help Steve with the healing a little."

The words had sent a chill even through Jemma's body. She could barely imagine what the loss felt like for Bruce. "We won't have it done in time for this round, but if he decides to keep using the suit, we can certainly see what can be done with integrating things, perhaps even... well, perhaps modifying the suit that Mr. Stark was working on. He's left some notes, a few bits of programming. Stark Industries owns most of it, but I suspect that Ms. Potts might release a thing or two for the sake of keeping Captain Rogers safe." They'd reached the tower, but Jemma was reluctant to pull away. "If you... it sounds silly, but if you need anything? Just come by. I'll probably be in the lab half the night anyway. I find I don't sleep a great deal before days like tomorrow."

Bruce nodded, reluctantly letting go of Jemma's waist only to place his hands on her shoulders. "I'll do that. But get what rest you can. We may need you two to solve things long-range for us." He gave her a gentle squeeze, then pulled her in for another kiss before offering her one last smile. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have some coffee ready for me when we get back. I get the feeling there won't be time before we leave." With another wave, Bruce disappeared down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I'm going to ultimately break this baby into five parts. Part five is the unfinished part. The good news? Part 4 will be 32 chapters long as it currently stands.


	14. Meetings and Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the team touches base and Thor gets caught up.

Logan type a quick text to Scott as soon as everyone started moving toward their mutual corners. FOUND LOKI. GOING TO TELL ROGERS. NOT A SCRATCH ON ME. Gesturing to Sif, he moved toward the tower. He made sure to take the woman to all the major high points before having Jarvis guide them to Steve. He was surprised to find the man in Tony's lab and moreso considering he seemed to be wearing one of Tony's suits. "Uh... You got a minute, Rogers?"

"Yeah, just..." It took Steve a second to get the suit open, the face shield sliding back. He'd managed to split his lip at some point, but Jarvis had noted that the bleeding stopped far more quickly than it had previously. The fact that he'd gained a little bit of bulk had also helped to make maneuvering in the suit a bit easier. Catching the look on Logan's face, he explained, "Tony left it for me. I... it seemed like a good idea to learn how to use it. Maybe I can actually help out." He took note of the striking woman at Logan's side. "Captain Steve Rogers, ma'am. Sorry for not being able to shake properly. This is just as hard to get off as it looks like."

Sif shook her head. "Nay, it is worthy armor," she said with obvious approval. "I am the Lady Sif. I have come to aid you in your quest." 

"Does that mean that Thor's back too?" Steve asked, feeling a surge of hope.

"That it does, thanks to the assistance of your team. We owe you a debt, and we hope that our help may do some work toward paying it."

"It will, ma'am," Steve agreed solemnly. Expression still strained, Steve managed, "Everybody come back okay?"

Logan looked at the armor with more curiosity than anything. It was interesting to note that Stark had left the suit for Rogers. It was strange to see something coming to fruition that Tony had started just before his death. "You look pretty beat up," he noted as he took in the split on the blonde's lip. "Think you oughta take a break? You know Coulson and Barton are back, right?" It didn't seem as if Steve had really left the lab since the team had left the planet. "You could eat and see how they're doin'."

The suggestion, almost gentle considering who it came from, was enough like some of Steve's attempts to get Tony out of the lab after long days that his breath caught. It took a moment before he found his voice. "Yeah. I heard. That... it's a good idea. I could use a break. I'll meet you upstairs in a few minutes?" Steve knew that Logan was right. Pushing himself and not resting wasn't going to help anyone. Going back to his own room or to Tony's and being reminded of how lonely it was scared the hell out of him, though. "Some dinner sounds pretty good."

"Aye, we should fortify ourselves before we travel," Sif agreed readily. "We shall await your arrival, Captain."

Logan nodded. He hadn't missed the slight shift in Steve's demeanor at his suggestion of rest. He didn't know exactly what it meant, but he knew enough to know that he and Sif needed to give the blonde a moment. "Take your time," he agreed, gesturing to Sif to follow him. 

He led her slowly toward the cafeteria. "You'll haveta forgive us. The team's hurtin' all over right now," he explained. 

"It is a difficult thing to lose one of your own," Sif agreed, her tone softer than normal. "There is no dishonor in mourning those who deserve to be mourned. From all that Thor has told me, the Man of Iron was well worth the glory of being given a proper rest. We will see that it is done." That Loki was, whatever his official parentage, one of their own only made it more embarrassing that he was capable of being so dishonorable. War did not have to be waged in so ugly a fashion, but sniping and underhanded tactics seemed to be the only ones he ever used. 

They were well settled at a table in the cafeteria, Sif utterly oblivious to the stares of those around them, before Steve joined them. Though he still looked bruised and tired, it was easy to see that Simmons' formula was working. He had lost some of the painful thinness and had gained at least a few inches of height over the course of the past day. "Sorry. Just wanted to get cleaned up. And have the bots help me out of that thing without an audience. It's not a graceful show just yet."

Logan couldn't help a faint smile at the thought. Imagining Steve with a laptop was amusing enough. Imagining him on his own with a bunch of Tony's robots was simultaneously sad and amusing, and Logan settled for nodding sympathetically. "You look like you're feelin' better," he remarked as gently as he knew how. "It'll be good to have you back on the team. Hopefully in the lead," he added before taking a bite of food.

"I hope so too," Steve agreed, posture still slightly stiff as he sat down. It felt like a continual effort to keep himself together. At least in the lab it was easier in a way. Only Jarvis was watching and listening, and if he ended up balled up in a corner sobbing, the AI wasn't going to think any worse of him as far as Steve could tell. He glanced up at the sound of footsteps to find another group joining them. Some of the weariness dropped from his expression at the sight of Clint and Phil. "Welcome back!" 

The warm greeting and the real smile on Steve's face made Phil feel genuinely better. The man was going through hell, and he was still willing to spare what little happiness he possessed with them. "Thank you. It's very good to be back." Again he found himself on the verge of reaching out for Clint's hand and barely stopped. "How about we all get some food and reconvene?" 

"Sit," Natasha ordered Clint, including Phil in her gaze. "I'll get something for you." 

Phil opened his mouth to protest, but a harsh look from the woman changed his mind. "Thank you," he replied instead.

The small exchange almost made Steve smile - at least until he considered what it might mean. He hadn't been able to access the full report of what had happened while Phil and Clint were held captive, and he'd found that more than slightly troubling. Coupling that with Natasha's sudden protectiveness left him wondering just how bad it really was.

Clint glanced at Phil with a resigned smile, letting the man sit before subtly edging a chair of his own closer to Phil than was strictly professional and settling in it. He didn't hesitate to press his thigh against Coulson's, leaning a little closer to him as well. "Thanks, Steve," he said, feeling a little uncomfortable as Logan eyed him and remembering that the mutant's senses could probably tell him things Clint didn't want him to know. 

Logan's jaw tightened as he looked away from Clint. The two might have showered like hell, but his senses still told him enough. It made him want to kill someone right then and there. Loki was stooping to all new kinds of low this time around. 

Thor immediately rushed Steve upon catching sight of the man. "Friend Rogers!" He threw massive arms around the blonde, then drew back as he noticed that Steve seemed smaller. His brow furrowed with concern. "Have you been eating well, my friend? You seem to have taken ill."

 

Steve laughed in surprise at the rather apt description. "That's... yeah, buddy, that's one way of putting it. I'm on the road to recovery thanks to Dr. Simmons. Should be back to normal in another few days. And..." He took a breath and started again, "And Tony left me a suit. I'm not great at it yet, but I should be able to fight enough to make a difference and at least put out some crowd control with Jarvis helping me." 

Natasha caught the last of the confession as she set down three trays, apparently unbothered by the burden. "That is good news." She sounded cool and collected, but a faint smile turned up the corners of her lips. "We'd be happy to have you back out in the fray with us, Cap."

"It would be good to be there. It's good having something to do." He caught the odd expression on Logan's face and made note to talk to him later. He met Clint's gaze and gave a hint of a smile, though it was far sadder than the one he'd offered earlier. "Funny how strange it is being around people. I guess I kind of went off on my own there for a bit."

"A suit?" Thor echoed incredulously. He gave the table a thump, making the food and trays on it jump. "Glorious! You shall do great honor unto the Man of Iron's memory!"

If the commentary hadn't been on such a grim subject, Logan would've been hard put not to have a laugh at just how ridiculous Thor sounded. As it was, the feral mutant focused on his food. There were a lot of touchy subjects flying around the table, and he found himself wishing Scott was there to help mitigate some of his utter inability to deal with people's feelings. 

Clint picked at the food, taking solace in the friendship surrounding him, even though he wasn't participating directly. It still felt good to have everyone together. He glanced at Phil, reassuring himself of the man's presence.

Beneath the table, Phil let his hand stray over to give Clint's a quick squeeze. He felt his shoulders relax at the touch, at the gentle reminder of Clint's presence. That was all it took. "I think it will definitely be a fitting tribute," he agreed quietly.

Steve couldn't find the words, and so he just nodded and pretended to be particularly fascinated by his sandwich until he was sure that he wasn't on the verge of breaking down again. It took less time to recover than it had without his friends there. //Which is why you shouldn't be hiding,// he reminded himself. After losing Bucky, it had taken Peggy to draw him out of himself again. He was lucky to still have a team that honestly cared. "Pepper's getting everything settled." The mood was already heavy, so it seemed like as good a time as any to talk about it. "We're hoping... well, we'll give it a few days, but she wants to plan a service. She's the one to talk to if anyone wants to say anything."

Clint couldn't help the smile that touched his lips when Phil dared the contact, even if it was just briefly. Deciding that it was too nice to stop, he chanced taking a firmer hold of the other man's hand, his fingers hooking over Phil's and holding tightly. They both needed it, and Clint felt fairly certain that Nat would run interference if necessary. He remembered then that Steve was talking and tuned in in time to register that the man was talking about a funeral for Tony. Clint swallowed around the lump in his throat. Tony had been a pain in the ass in a lot of ways, but he'd also been a part of the dysfunctional family that had come to live together in the tower.

"I should certainly be honored to say a few words," Thor immediately volunteered, his voice gentle as he finally settled into a seat near Steve. "The Man of Iron was a valiant teammate. I shall be sure to talk to the Lady Pepper about this." The god frowned, looking increasingly heartbroken. Perhaps even on the verge of tears. "Poor Lady Pepper. To lose such a noble warrior..."

Logan looked up at Steve suddenly as it occurred to him that Thor had no clue about the fact that Tony's relationship with Pepper had definitely shifted some time ago. //Well, this is awkward.// Logan wasn't about to spill the beans. He was pretty sure that was the kind of operation only a brain surgeon should undertake, and the feral mutant was pretty sure he was more on par with a two-bit butcher.

Steve sucked in a breath, belatedly realizing what Thor was thinking. He closed his eyes for a second and then steeled himself. "She's taking it pretty hard," he agreed mildly before moving onto the next leg of the verbal journey. It hurt like hell to talk about. It hurt like hell using the past tense when he talked about Tony. "Tony and Pepper broke up awhile ago - it... well, it was messy, but they were okay. Friends." He met Thor's gaze and managed a wavering smile. "We were together. Me and Tony." The smile broke, and it was suddenly damn hard to breathe through the pain. //Were.// 

Natasha reached out and rubbed a hand over the man's back. "It's okay. We've all been doing it the past few days," she offered quietly, knowing the tears were coming long before they actually did. Tony Stark was not the kind of man who was easy to like, but once he was under your skin, he stayed there. Over the years she'd known him, even Natasha had grown strangely fond of Stark. So slipping into a seat next to Steve and holding him in a loose hug felt perfectly natural even though some of the others at the table looked at her in obvious surprise. Natasha didn't mind bucking people's expectations. In fact she rather enjoyed it. 

"If there is anything that we of Asgard can do to help him have a warrior's rites, you have only to say the word." Sif knew it was a bit beyond her station to make the offer, but Thor nodded along eagerly. 

Swallowing and brushing away the tears, Steve managed, "Help me get him back. The least that Loki owes him is a proper burial."

"I think we owe Loki the same," Logan growled, ignoring the sharp look he got from Thor. "Or at least a thorough one."

Thor bit his tongue. He wanted to tell the mutant to mind his words, but Logan wasn't wrong. Loki deserved no quarter, no kindness in light of the things he'd done. "We will get the Man of Iron back, and we will make sure that my brother troubles your people no longer."

Logan nodded. "I know what it's like to have relatives that need to be put down," he assured. "It ain't easy." He flicked another glance at Barton and Coulson before he could catch himself. "I guess you and I both have some ugly business to take care of."

"I'm going, too. By the way," Clint added, shifting uneasily when the rest of the table turned their gazes on him. "I owe Loki a few times over this time."

"We've been cleared as soon as we feel ready," Coulson assured in light of the pronouncement." His fingers were still laced carefully together with Clint's under the table, and he gave them a squeeze. "As soon as we head out, I think I'm feeling pretty ready to deal with the situation." He hadn't missed Logan's glance and gave the man a nod. "It's good to know we're all on the same page."

Normally Steve was the one championing trying the less violent path, but showing mercy in this situation had only made things worse. They'd lost Tony because they'd been stupid enough to think that turning Loki over to his brother would be enough to keep him away. To Thor, he said, "I wish there were better choices in this, but there aren't. He's too dangerous." He glanced around the table and noted that none of them had really touched their food. "Where's Bruce?"

"Coffee date with Simmons," Natasha explained with a smirk. 

Steve's expression softened slightly at the news. "Good. That's good. Look, we're all kind of on edge right now, but let's break for awhile, and then we can meet with Fury this afternoon. We all know we're going to have to use the hammer somehow. We just need to get clear to pull it out of the lab and do it."

Clint couldn't help the twitch at the mention of the hammer. He'd nearly forgotten it in light of everything else that had happened.

Thor's brow furrowed. "Hammer? What hammer do you speak of?"

"Looks like that one," Logan pointed to Mjolnir, hanging at Thor's belt. "But more evil. Kinda makes people a little nuts when they use it."

Thor glanced uneasily at Sif, then back to those gathered. "I know that of which you speak, and it may well be the only thing that would truly prove to be Loki's undoing. It hasn't a name. It bonds to one master at a time, and takes the energy of others who attempt to use it. But as long as none among you have wielded it in battle, you have nothing to fear. I would be able to wield it for you and do the deed."

Logan's gaze drifted uneasily to Clint.

The archer swallowed hard. "What... what, exactly, would someone have to fear? If they'd used it. Hypothetically."

"Oh, it would be very grim, indeed. The hammer twists the mind of any who are good at heart. Mjolnir would guard me from its witchery, though, so fear not."

Phil paled and managed in a calm if slightly strained tone, "Then we may have a problem." The idea that after everything, the stupid hammer, picking it up once, could be the thing that unraveled Clint... he couldn't really even think it. He couldn't bring himself to look at Clint and try to see what the archer was thinking. 

Sif arched one dark brow. "What sort of a problem?"

Looking equally worried, Steve explained, "Clint used it when we found Loki at a SHIELD base. We knew he was looking for it, but we didn't know much about it. At the time... well, at the time, we didn't have a lot of other options. Kind of like now." He felt his stomach twist at the thought. They'd lost Tony because they'd had to move fast, plunge ahead without enough information or time, and now they could very well lose Clint too in just as horrifying a fashion. "Is there a way to break the connection once it's made?"

Logan was pretty sure the look of horror on Thor's face was the worst thing he'd seen in recent memory. And that was saying something.

"Friend Hawk, you...?" Thor trailed off at Clint's slow, frightened-looking nod. The god glanced at Sif, frowning. "The hammer was forged by the ice giants. We should ask my mother, but I fear that perhaps only Loki would know the answer."

"Great." Logan scowled. "He's gonna be real forthcomin' with that information, considerin' we'd be plannin' to turn him into a pancake right after we got the answer."

Clint fought to keep his breathing level. "What if... What if I only used it the once? Just killed Loki with it, then we put it back in the Fridge and I never see it again?" he asked tensely, sounding desperate.

Thor frowned. "It could work. You clearly have a strong heart, friend Hawk, since you are not obviously aching to have the hammer with you right now. But if you wield it again, that could change."

Phil did his best not to demand that Clint stay the hell away from the hammer. They'd lost a lot, and he hadn't missed the look on Steve's face, the realization of how badly they'd screwed it all up trying to keep Clint away in the first place. He couldn't agree to the plan aloud, though, when all he wanted was to take Clint back to his suite and keep him safe. 

Natasha spared either one of them answering for a moment, "It sound like the best plan we've got. It's a terrible plan. Probably disastrous, but it's a plan." She looked up to Steve, raising an eyebrow. She hated to force him back in charge if he wasn't ready, but he'd never be ready if the team didn't let him take the reins again.

"It's the best we've got," he agreed, tone suggesting that he hated the plan every bit as much as Natasha did. Steve swallowed hard. He was about to ask another team member to risk losing his mind if not his life on the same fool's errand that had taken Tony away from him. "What do you think, Clint? It's your call. We can ask you to do it, but not one of us would make you. It's a lot to risk over a maybe."

Clint glanced at Thor. "You think I could handle it?"

Thor nodded without hesitation. "If a human could do it, you would certainly be one who is able."

"Then that'll have to be good enough. But if you've got a long distance plan, I wouldn't mind you consulting with your mom before I get put in the same room with that thing again," Clint decided.

Thor looked confused, and Logan clarified, "If you'd talk to your mother about this, we'd appreciate it. See if there's a way to either redirect that thing to you or at least make sure our buddy here doesn't lose his marbles after the fact."

"But of course! I shall contact her this eve."

Clint took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright, then." He gave Phil's hand another squeeze under the table, trying to keep the trepidation out of his eyes as they exchanged glances. "Alright, I'll do it. What's another six months in containment, right?"

"Not happening," Phil answered more sharply than he'd intended. His expression softened faintly at the warning look Natasha gave him. "Unless it's absolutely necessary, I'd rather keep an eye on you myself."

Natasha let some of the tension roll from her shoulders. The thought of Clint putting himself in the line of fire again didn't sit well with her, but any of them sitting a round out was even worse. Better to drive forward and do everything they could as a team. "So when do we roll?"

Steve snapped into leader mode without any further prompting. "Thor talks to his mom tonight, I'll talk to Fury in just a minute... we head out just before dawn. Everybody will need some sleep." He had no idea whether he'd even be capable of getting any. “I'll text Bruce the highlights and fill him in when he gets back. No sense in cutting his date short."

"Thor, I'd feel better if Lady Sif stays on your couch for the night," Natasha pointed out. Despite the man having more or less his own kingdom and not really needing a room, Tony had still set a suite up for him. "If your brother tries anything stupid, at least then you've got back up."

Thor nodded, glancing at Sif. "That seems a wise plan, Lady Widow." His expression seemed to brighten a little as a thought occurred to him. "We should have a feast tonight! Meat and mead to lift our spirits and fortify us for battle!"

"I've never had one, but I'm gonna guess that hangovers might not be too helpful where we're goin," Logan pointed out.

Thor tilted his head at Logan. "Hang... overs?"

Clint rolled his eyes in a way that would've made Tony Stark proud. "It's a thing humans get when we drink too much. Happens the next day? Hurts a lot?"

The god seemed to think on it a moment, then tilted his head. "Would that not fuel your rage toward your enemy and make you that much more mighty?"

"Just Bruce." Clint didn't bat an eye, and it wasn't clear if he was kidding.

Logan jerked a thumb towards Thor. "He has a point. If you've ever seen Scott hung over..."

"No offense, Thor, but I'm not sure we're up to that just now," Steve agreed gently. As good as it felt being around his teammates, drinking and carousing wasn't something he felt physically capable of it. The pain was too fresh, too raw. He couldn't even get through a single meal without breaking down in tears yet. "I need to talk to Director Fury. You should all relax, do whatever it takes to get you in the game." He paused, gaze sweeping over them all before finally resting on Clint. "Thank you. All of you. We all know this has been a mess from top to bottom, but we're not out of the game yet. He won't get away with it this time."


	15. Friendship is Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha is surprisingly cuddly, and she keeps an eye on Clint and Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the three of them as friends. I love them supporting each other. It's not an exaggeration to say this is one of my favorite chapters of the whole series even though it's pretty simple.

Natasha watched Steve walk away with a hint of a smile. Even broken-hearted, he knew how to inspire others. It was damn impressive. "I'm staying with you," she observed, looking to Phil and Clint. "On the couch, of course, but I am."

Thor looked a little disappointed, but mostly he pitied Steve. Clearly, the man was hurting. The god glanced at Sif, then wordlessly gathered his hammer and took his leave, intent on contacting his mother to see if he could gain any helpful information. The Hawk's life - or at least his sanity - depended on it.

Logan also left, well aware how much the three gathered at one end of the table needed the space. Besides, he needed to get Scott caught up on what was going on.

Clint glanced at Nat. "You don't have to," he said. "I mean, I don't mind, but..." He sighed. "Well, I guess I did promise you an explanation, anyway." He leaned a little closer to Phil as if for reassurance. "And I'm not doing it here, not in the cafeteria."

"Whether you tell me or not... let's just say I'm not giving you enough room to get yourself in trouble for awhile," Natasha answered with a warm smile. She rose and followed the men, noting that they still remained entirely in one another's orbit. It could help. The attachment might be enough to help Clint focus through the task ahead. It might let him hang onto enough of himself to see him through. Once they were in the room, Natasha waited until both men sat down next to one another on the couch before she took a nearby chair.

Phil sighed and ventured, "How much do you know without us telling you?"

She quirked a smile and inclined her head. "Nothing good. I know you can't stay more than three feet away from each other. I know the look Logan gave you at dinner. I know how angry he was. That suggests his brother. His strong, psychopathic, sadistic brother." She sighed heavily. "What did he do to you?"

Clint felt cold fear wash over him at the question, and he leaned against Phil, taking one of the man's hands in his own to try and quell some of the shaking. "He..." The archer's voice roughened and broke, and he took several deep breaths, forcing himself to compartmentalize the event so that he could at least form words. "He raped us. First Phil. Then me." Another breath, and Clint was staring hard at a point on the floor that he wasn't really seeing. "Th... there was nothing I could do... I couldn't stop him..." Tears leaked from his eyes, but he didn't seem to register them.

Though it wasn't a surprise, Natasha still felt her stomach roll at the confession, at the tears and the way Clint leaned into Phil like he was the only person in the world who could fix it all. She rose and moved over to kneel in front of Clint, taking the hand that wasn't desperately wrapped around Phil's. Even as she'd moved, their handler had wrapped an arm around Clint's shoulders, pulling him in close. "It isn't your fault. Either of you," she added with a sober glance at Phil. Despite the man remaining slightly more controlled on the outside, she hadn't missed the tremor of the man's hands as Clint spoke or the glossy sheen in his eyes. 

"No, but that doesn't make it less difficult to deal with, unfortunately. I think... at the moment, I think coping is the best it can be described as." Phil absently began stroking Clint's hair. In front of Natasha, he wasn't worried about holding back or being appropriate. "We'll get there. We're both going to do our shrink sessions, and it... horrible as it is, it helps having someone who understands."

She nodded and squeezed Clint's hand. "I wasn't there, but I understand." The words carried a sad, somber weight, and she let that sink in for a second. Phil knew her file backwards and forwards, but it wasn't something she threw around lightly. "I wish none of us did."

Clint seemed to come back to reality as the two talked around him. Their combined presence was reassuring. The idea of the three of them together in one place and relatively safe even moreso. Clint squeezed Nat's hand, offering her a weak but sincere smile. He hadn't gotten to see the details in Nat's file, but he hadn't needed to. Hadn't wanted to. That was a story that was most definitely hers to tell if she wanted to. He hated the idea, hated that she understood. He used his grip on her hand to pull her onto the couch next to him and tugged her close until he could place a gentle kiss to the woman's forehead. He realize a moment later that Phil might take the gesture the wrong way, and Clint made a point to press himself into their handler's touch more firmly as he drew away. "The three of us are a real mess, y'know that?" he said shakily, forcing a faint smile. "Glad I have the two of you, though. Don't think I could do all this without you guys."

"You don't have to, idiot," Natasha answered mildly. She reached across Clint's body and felt Phil's fingers curl around hers. Her head settled in against Clint's shoulder, and the three of them sat together in silence for a few moments. It was soothing, a tangible reminder that they were safe. They weren't alone. 

Phil shifted first, kissing the top of Clint's head. "I could put on a movie. And you are staying the night," he added to Natasha, "but I have a king size bed. You don't need to sleep on the couch." He smiled wryly. "No one's getting laid for awhile, so you might as well be comfortable." He supposed it should've sounded crazier than it did, but somehow crazy had become their default. Natasha staying with them made as much sense as anything else they'd done. He knew it would be a comfort to Clint, and frankly he didn't mind the idea of a little extra back-up either just in case.

Natasha allowed herself a soft laugh and drew back, searching Clint's face. "That okay by you?"

Clint smiled, feeling relieved. "I'm really alright with that. And a movie. Something stupid and pointless. Like Monty Python stupid. Or Space Balls stupid," he decided before settling back and pulling the two close to him again. "One of us can get up and get it in a second." It felt too good to have the two people closest to him wrapped around him to let them get up immediately.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I'll get it." She padded over and grabbed the remotes, surfing through the menus as if she did it every day. Once the opening crawl for Spaceballs started, she tucked herself in at Clint's side again. "Just remember, if you cop a feel, we'll both hurt you." It wasn't a serious threat, of course, but Natasha knew that it was important to be clear. She wasn't there to get in the way of what they had. She just needed the comfort of being close too.

"So you'll withhold pain pills? Because that seems like insult to injury."

The woman smirked. "You say that like I'm above such things."

"No, just clarifying." Phil let his arm slide across Clint's chest, seeking intimacy more than establishing possession. "As long as I get to keep mine, it's fine."

Clint gave Phil a mock look of betrayal. "Whose side are you on, anyway?" he asked, managing to look completely victimized. He couldn't keep the show up for long, though, with Phil holding him so nicely. He stretched up and kiss Phil's neck, up to the man's lips, lingering there a moment before he remembered they sort of had an audience. Blushing, he looked away. "Sorry. Impulse. And stuff." He leaned back to prop his head against Phil's shoulder, wrapping an arm around Nat's waist and being careful that his hand didn't wander higher or lower.

 

"Oh, don't apologize on my account," Natasha drawled with a smile. "I like it. You two are adorable." None of her usual cynicism colored words. Instead they sounded utterly and entirely sincere. And they were. It warmed her from the inside out to see Clint being taken care of by someone who could handle it. Even shaken and haunted, Phil Coulson would always protect him. She would do her best to protect them both. 

Phil half-smiled and kissed Clint's tousled hair again. "Good, because I don't promise to stop entirely." He needed the closeness. Clint needed it. Absently he started stroking the hair at the back of Clint's neck, an idle touch to maintain additional contact between them. "Actually, I don't promise to stop at all. I'll behave myself in public, but not in the suite." It was odd, but he couldn't quite think of it as just his anymore when he was already growing so used to Clint's warm presence in it. 

"In that case..." Clint arched his head back and hooked his arm back behind Phil's head to tug him into another, deeper, more lingering kiss before he pulled away. Having his hair petted was soothing in the extreme, and if Nat wasn't weirded out by them kissing a little, he wasn't going to stop. He needed some kind of intimacy with the other man, chaste as it was. He hadn't missed the way Phil had left ownership of the suite vague. The truth was, the archer hadn't had much inclination to go back to his own even before their abduction. Now, he couldn't imagine doing anything but staying with Phil.

 

The kiss was enough to leave Phil pleasantly breathless and to bring a blush to his cheeks. He didn't miss Natasha smirking to herself, but she kept her gaze on the screen, giving them a faint illusion of privacy despite the fact that she was more or less inside their personal space. Considering how close the three of them were - they'd tried every sexual combination possible between themselves - it didn't feel as horribly embarrassing as it probably should have. It made Phil self conscious, but it didn't stop him from laying another slow, sensual kiss on Clint's lips.

Clint let himself get caught up in the contact, nearly forgetting Nat was there even as his hand tightened on her waist a little. His tongue cautiously worked its way into Phil's mouth, exploring gently as he felt his skin flush. He actually whimpered softly before he realized just how much he was enjoying the contact, then drew away a little guiltily, eyes searching Phil's face. He knew it was delicate for them both, and he didn't want Phil to feel pressured or worse to bring up the trauma they'd both just endured.

"It's okay," Phil assured, "but considering we're supposed to be watching a movie..." He gave Clint a gentle nudge. Natasha was a patient woman, but she would only appreciate them pushing the boundaries so far. Even assassins with the patience of saints could only stand so much. "I don't want her killing you in your sleep. You're so nice and warm."

"Wait till winter. He's better than a heating blanket," Natasha agreed without glancing at them.

Clint had the decency to blush a little at that. It wasn't as if Phil was unaware that he and Nat had been more than just casual friends, but it was still a little awkward. Deciding it was best to play it off, he smirked a little and nibbled at Phil's jaw, unable to resist. He always pushed boundaries. At least a little. "Yeah, I am pretty cozy. I'm like a portable furnace. I could just lay on you and keep you toasty," he said, taking a moment to glance at the movie.

Phil chuckled and sighed at the feeling of Clint kissing him. It was a balm to his soul to know that they were okay, that they could still touch and enjoy each other, could still be affectionate even if it wasn't appropriate to throw themselves into anything more strenuous yet. "Glad to hear it. Here I thought I was just keeping you around to pretty the place up. It's good to know you have practical applications too."

Natasha snorted at that and gave a slight shake of her head. "Oh, Phil, if you're looking for practical, you have made some truly terrible life choices. What happened to you being the sane one?"

He feigned a look of offense and held Clint a little tighter. "I beg to differ. I'm fairly sure that taking the two of you on as assets were the craziest things I ever did. It kind of worked out."

Clint grinned as Phil pulled him close and defended him like he was a puppy that had been chewing up Nat's shoes. He stuck his tongue out smugly at the woman. "Mostly. Besides, I'm house trained now. And way too adorable to get rid of, no matter how impractical I am. I feel the need to point out, though, that I also travel extremely well. I can fit myself in a suitcase, and I'm multifunctional," he pointed out. "So, completely practical. And adorable." He punctuated the sentence by giving Nat his best puppy dog eyes.

She turned her head, glaring back at him until the expression did its job, and she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, fine. You're adorable." Natasha arched an eyebrow at Phil. "He's your problem. You did this to yourself."

"I'm relatively certain that you helped," he challenged pointedly.

The arch expression softened into something warmer. "You weren't figuring it out on your own. Boys are stupid," Natasha answered as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "This one," she poked behind her at the chest she was leaning against, "hadn't even realized how often he was leering at you. It was time to make a move or end up in HR with a sexual harassment tag on his file. You too, Phil, so stop looking so smug. Honestly, the two of you are ridiculous."

"I think I've already got a few of those tags. And I wasn't leering. I was... appreciating," Clint insisted, reaching back to pull Phil into another kiss as if to emphasize the point. "It's important to appreciate things." He glanced up at the man he was leaning against and gave him a wicked smile. "Sometimes, you just need a little encouragement to appreciate them up close." He looked back to Nat. "When things calm down, don't be surprised to find a bottle the best vodka and chocolate I can get my hands on on your pillow."

"I think I might appreciate that," Natasha answered earnestly. She gave Clint's thigh a squeeze, but it was a quick, affectionate gesture obviously not intended as more. He belonged to someone else, and far from being offended, she was relieved. He deserved every last bit of the affection that Phil could offer him. She could keep him physically safe. Phil could protect his heart. 

Phil hadn't watched most of the movie. He kept looking down at Clint. Watching his face move and his fingers twitch was fascinating. Soothing. He lifted one calloused hand to his lips to kiss it and let the sense of real peace wash over him. The three of them were together and safe. Healthy and sound would come later, but Phil knew that together they could manage all of it. He was fairly certain that he'd sleep a lot better that night.

Clint more or less purred, a content sort of murmur as Phil's lips brushed reassuringly against his palm. He leaned up to gently kiss the man's neck before letting his fingers tangle around Phil's, idly tracing the shapes of his lover's hand, his knuckles, his fingers. He was only half tuned into the movie, enjoying instead the security and quiet he was feeling with Nat and Phil pressed securely against him. His free hand idly stroked through the woman's red locks without his realizing it, and he almost stopped before changing his mind. The few times they'd had to reassure one another, Clint had usually found himself doing the same thing. He figured if either she or Phil had an objection, they could voice it, but the contact was calming for the archer too.

When Phil looked down a few minutes later, he was surprised to see Natasha fast asleep against Clint's shoulder. It was a show of trust that he knew she wouldn't allow around most people, and he smiled at the quiet, peaceful moment. "We should get to bed," he suggested, nudging her gently and grabbing the remote to turn off the television. "C'mon, everybody up - just for a minute." 

Reluctantly Natasha shifted away from Clint, alert despite bleary eyes and a desire to curl right back up. She followed Phil and Clint into the bedroom and managed to convince herself to kick off her shoes and peel away her jacket before crawling into bed, sandwiching Clint in the middle. 

"See? Worth moving," Phil observed. He got a muffled sound of approval from Natasha as he grabbed the blanket and pulled it up over all of them. They made for a ridiculous family, but he honestly couldn't imagine a better one.

"Definitely," Clint agreed, squirming a little until he was laying on his injuries in the least painful way possible. He pressed himself against Phil and pulled Nat close to him, sighing happily. He'd barely gotten his face pressed comfortably into the crook of Phil's neck before he was out like a light. 

When Clint woke, the three of them had shifted somewhat, but were still cuddled fairly close together. Phil's arm was comfortably around his waist. The archer tensed a moment later when he realized they had a mission. He knew Jarvis would've woken them if they were late, but he was fairly certain it was still the wee hours of the morning. He stayed still, not wanting to wake Phil or Nat until it was necessary, and not really wanting to peel himself away from either of them, anyway.

Phil woke immediately at the slightest motion from Clint. He tensed and then relaxed. He was still lying by Clint's side, and he could see the tangle of Natasha's hair against Clint's other shoulder. He shifted just enough to kiss Clint's cheek. "Morning." Even if they did have to go be heroes all too soon, for the moment they were curled up in bed. It was just them. Well, the three of the, but he didn't exactly consider Natasha an intrusive presence. "You ready?"

Clint smiled faintly at the kiss, stealing one in return. "Think I might be now," he decided, then wriggled a little closer to Phil before stealing another kiss from the man's lips. "But you're staying behind me this time. I'm not letting any psychotic weirdos take you. Or me. I'm gonna have the hammer, which means I can keep us both safe." He felt strangely confident in the statement, and he wondered if it was his own belief or the alien artifact's influence.

"Both? Really? Like I'm not even here," Natasha groused with a smirk as she sat up and stretched. "I'm gonna go get changed. Meet you boys downstairs in a bit." She slipped away without another word, casual as if they all slept piled up in bed together every day. 

Phil shook his head, but he didn't say anything. Sleep-rumpled and bleary, Natasha looked younger than usual as she made her way out. It made him hate even more the thought of what they'd be doing that day and the brand new chance for all of them to get hurt. Just because it was part of the job didn't mean he had to like it. Clint's words filtered through the fog, and Phil kissed him again, gently, whispering, "Just be careful. I know it maybe goes without saying, but I need to say it, and you need to agree to it. Be careful."

Clint nodded, running a hand over Phil's chest, determined to stay in the bed until Jarvis told them they had to get ready. It felt too good to be tangled up against his handler to jump out of bed. "I will be. I've already got all kinds of plans on how we're gonna feed the ducks and I'm gonna cuddle you all night every night and we're gonna live off of pizza, donuts, and stupid eighties movies until we get tired of it." He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes. "And I'll protect Tash, too, but I figured she'd yell at me for thinking she needed my protection."

"She would," Phil agreed, his eyes closing as he breathed in the moment. It was hard to remember that the world was falling apart when he let himself melt into Clint's embrace. "Plan sounds good, by the way. Donuts and pizza and movies. And coffee. Perfect." Phil's hands drifted down over the curve of Clint's back, gentle, careful of the bandages and stitches, mindful of what they'd been through but not wanting to let it keep him from touching. "You protect us during the fight. I'll protect you after."

The words were a nerve-wracking reminder of the potential danger Clint faced, and he tensed a little. He could deal with thugs, bombs, crashed aircraft, even alien invaders. Things that invaded his mind were another story, and they seemed to be happening with uncomfortable frequency. "Thank you," he murmured, letting the feeling of Phil's hands soothing carefully over his back calm him down. "I know you will." He felt certain Phil would make sure he was okay. He knew his handler would be there this time, and that between Phil and Nat, he'd be as safe as could be hoped.

"We'll be there with you the whole time, and be there after as much as you want us to be." Phil knew that there might be moments where Clint wanted time to himself to process. He hated the thought of their being separated, but it would be about what Clint needed first and foremost. "Right now, I think you should kiss me and stop worrying about it because it's going to be fine. I know it is." They'd survived Loki twice, and they'd gotten home in one piece, more or less. They were going to survive the next round too.

Clint pressed a tentative kiss to Phil's lips, then grabbed him and pulled him into one that was far more passionate, more desperate. He realized a moment later that it might be too rough and softened the contact a little before he pulled away, running his hand through Phil's ruffled hair. "I know it will be. I know you'll be there, whatever happens. That's all I need." He leaned in for another kiss, then pressed his forehead to Phil's and groaned when he heard the alarm chime softly.

"Sirs, it's time-"

"I know. We know. Thank you, Jarvis."


	16. Regrouping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things maybe aren't that bad, reunions happen, and Loki asks for a favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a couple days with no updates. I was vending at a convention. Yay work? :)

It had taken a lot of convincing to get Fury to release the hammer to Clint's possession, but a lot less than anyone had honestly expected. Fury was obviously just as pissed as the rest of them.

The archer had the weapon on the plane's deck between his feet, fiddling idly with the strap while Thor sat across the aisle from him, watching him uncomfortably closely. Clint leaned hard against Phil, not wanting any space between them. He didn't yet feel much of the tug from the hammer, though he did experience an unusual surge of confidence every time he touched it.

Not worried about what anyone would think, Phil put a hand on Clint's back, rubbing at the few muscles he could reach with the barrier of the man's vest in the way. The team wanted them sane and functional. For just a little while, that was going to mean being slightly less professional than normal. Leaning in closer, he whispered, "We'll be done before you know it. Then on to donuts and movies."

Pressed into his seat between Thor and Scott, Logan was watching the archer less intensely but just as warily. Clint looked at that weapon like it was made of solid gold, and it was hard to miss the odd flicker in the archer's eyes whenever his hand brushed against the handle. //Sure as hell hope everyone knows what we're doin' with this thing.// He glanced back to Scott. "You alright?"

"As I'm going to be," Scott answered, though he smiled faintly. The truth was that he felt okay for the moment. He felt better being at Logan's side than he would have being separated from the team. The next time around, he knew it would probably be different. For now he wasn't ready to allow too much space, not where Loki was concerned. He wanted to know that things were dealt with, not just hear about it.

For his part, Bruce remained quiet, simply working to keep himself as calm as he could. The last thing anyone needed was for the Other Guy to make an unscheduled appearance. It was strangely easy to calm himself when he let his mind drift to Jemma. He smiled quietly at the thought of her face lighting up when she talked about her projects, the way she blushed when he kissed her.

Steve glanced over and saw a smile on Bruce's lips. It was enough of a pleasant oddity to surprise a smile from him as well. Some of the fear and tension drained from his shoulders if only for a moment. The unfamiliar weight of the suit was forgotten as he ventured, "Dr. Simmons?" He continued on before Bruce had an opportunity to protest or apologize. "It's nice to see you smile. You deserve it. Hold onto that. I... if we don't need the other guy, I don't want to put you through it, so I'm kind of hoping you can keep going with the happy thoughts."

Natasha's voice came back from the cockpit, "Almost there." Fury had sent Agent May along with them too, knowing that the more bodies they had the better. The two women had taken over the helm without a word. "Make sure you're locked and loaded, boys."

Bruce nodded at Steve, then took a deep breath as he felt the plane dip as it went into VSTOL mode. "Looks like it's showtime," he muttered as the cargo gate dropped.

Clint gave Phil a quick peck on the cheek. "Donuts and movies," he echoed as he released his safety harness and stood. His hand wrapped around the hammer's handle, and an odd smile touched his lips as he stalked toward the rear of the plane. "Let's go break some heads."

Thor gave the archer an approving thump on the back. "That is the spirit, Hawk!" he decided, though he couldn't help the unease he felt at the strange bloodlust in Clint's eyes when the man looked up at him.

The stronghold didn't look like much from the outside, just a pair of very large metal hangar doors wedged open enough to drive a vehicle through. And sand. Lots of sand. The team advanced through the building with little resistance until they encountered a more open area that looked like a munitions storage, littered with empty shipping containers.

Logan froze, sniffing at the air. He was about to bark a warning when something large and dark tore past him, catching hold of Clint and carrying him bodily to the top of one of the containers.

"Wouldn't've thought you'd be back for round two so fast. Miss me?" Creed growled, though his leer wavered a little as a broad smile slid over the archer's face.

"Just wanted to give you something." The hammer collided with Victor's head with the sound of two trains colliding, and the mutant hit the ground and slid across the floor in front of the team like a rag doll. Clint easily dropped back to the floor as if nothing had happened, looking utterly calm as he resumed his place next to Phil.

Logan raised an eyebrow at the archer, then cautiously approached Victor, whose blood was pooling around his head. Logan looked his brother over, then glanced back to Nat. "It'd take more than that to kill 'im, but he's gonna take a minute to start breathin' again. Might wanna put some handcuffs on 'im."

It was a satisfying sight to see Creed bleeding out on the floor, but Logan was right - it would take more to kill him, and they were supposed to be the good guys. Coulson snapped on some cuffs and let Natasha do the same with the man's ankles. It wouldn't stop him entirely, but it would make any major bouts of resistance uncomfortable at best. He flashed Natasha a quick smile. "I'll make sure you get ten minutes in a room alone with him."

"Is it my birthday already?" The banter was interrupted by a door opening at the back of the room. Natasha straightened as Loki stepped in. 

The god resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the crumpled form on the floor. He'd tried to relay orders through the ranks to stand down, but naturally Creed hadn't listened. //It's on his own head, then.// Given that they'd bothered to bind the mutant, he apparently wasn't dead, though Loki couldn't profess any deep concern either way. Loki held his hands up in a universal gesture that he hoped would be understood and acknowledged. "I do not seek to fight you."

"Too bad. We're not feeling quite so generous," Steve answered, tone gone flat to keep from shouting. "This is a long way past a peaceful resolution."

Loki gave a slight shake of his head. Of course Steve was going to be the most difficult. "Things are not as you believe them to be." Suddenly he wished he'd dragged Stark out with him even if it meant putting the man in the line of fire. At least then they could see that Stark was whole and well. "You have the hammer," he nodded toward Barton, "and my brother. A fool I may be at times, but not so much that I intend to stand against you now."

Clint was already closing ground, circling like a deadly predator, the hammer held at the ready and a strange, deep violet tinge to his eyes. "I don't think you get it. We're not here to negotiate and take you back with us. We're here to kill you. And I get to do the honors."

Thor didn't seem quite so sure. "Brother, there is no use trying to talk your way out of this. We know you cannot be trusted." There was a tinge of pain in his voice. "We must end you."

"Guys." Bruce's voice was soft but somehow managed to carry enough weight to draw their attention, save for Clint. "We need him to tell us how to fix the issue with the hammer. And knowing where Tony is wouldn't hurt, either."

"I'm feeling pretty good, actually," Clint remarked with a smirk. The archer had stopped moving forward, but he kept his eyes on Loki, swinging the hammer idly.

Bruce refrained from commenting; Clint looked like he was going off the rails. The scientist instead tilted his head at Loki, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What did you mean? 'Things aren't as they seem.' What are you-?"

"Talkin' ain't the route we need to go with this clown. Just ask Coulson," Logan snapped.

"No talk, then," Loki agreed, swallowing as Clint stalked closer, the hammer still held tightly in his hands. There wasn't much time left to convince them not to kill him, let alone anything else. "Let me show you." 

Coulson hesitated but finally met Clint's gaze. "We need him alive. For now. Logan, can you watch that?" He nodded toward Creed. Death or no death, he was frankly more eager to see Creed suffer than Loki. Some things, it turned out, were actually more personally than attempted murder. 

Steve took a breath and agreed, "Agent Romanov, if you would stay with him?" He didn't like the idea of any Brotherhood members coming in behind them and freeing Creed. "Agent Barton, keep an eye on Loki, but no taking his head off for the moment, please." He glared at the god from behind the visor and cautioned, "Now would be a really stupid time to try anything cute."

Loki opened his mouth to reply and then closed it, nodding curtly instead as he started down the hall. Sweat trickled down his back, and it frankly made him sick to have them all behind him. Every instinct screamed not to allow it, but it was the only way. He needed to get them to Stark, and he needed to do it sooner rather than later. Eventually even the Avengers might not be able to reign Barton in. When they reached his room, he knocked sharply and prayed that Stark would answer. "We have guests." It was the moment of truth, and he still half expected Stark to tell them to smash him into paste as soon as they had what they wanted. //I couldn't exactly blame him if he did.//

 

Clint was fiddling with the hammer as they walked, aching to bring it down in the middle of Loki's back. He refrained, though. Mostly because Phil had told him not to. He was half praying for the Asgardian to give him a reason to disobey.

Tony actually jumped at the sudden sound. Feeling oddly nervous at the certainty of who would be with Loki, he took a deep breath and walked across the room. Slowly, hesitantly, he wrapped his hand around the knob and pulled the door open. There was Loki, surrounded by his friends, and... Tony felt his heart skip at the sight of the suit he'd made for his lover. "Steve!" He threw himself at the other man, relieved and frustrated all at once when his hands met with unforgiving armor.

Steve didn't even have time to choke out Jarvis' name before the visor slid back. Apparently his need for haste had been obvious without words. He didn't believe it even seeing the sight with his own eyes, couldn't understand. "Tony?" he finally choked, fingers rising and then falling away when he realized they were still covered in metal. Even through the burning need to clutch at Tony and kiss him senseless, Steve managed, "Where were we going on vacation?" It had to be something no one but Tony would know, something that no imposter could simply conjure up. Something not in the files. Steve did his best to remain stoic, not to cry as he fought the urge to tear away the armor and hold his lover and let himself believe before he had real proof. 

Loki held his breath too while he waited. He knew that Tony could pass any test. He didn't know whether the others would let him live long enough to see whether that mattered. His fingers curled into fists as he watched them stare, frozen, at the pair of men in the doorway.

Clint had raised the hammer the minute Tony had run at Steve. "Loki, if this is some kind of illusion..." he growled.

It took a half second for Tony to process the question and why he was being asked. "Colorado. We're gonna go to Colorado. Big cabin, far away." He met skeptical blue eyes and smiled faintly. "We were gonna have Nat make sure no one bothered us." He hooked his fingers into the suit's chest plate, trying to tug Steve towards him. "Any more stupid questions, or are you gonna very carefully wrap those arms around me and kiss me now? After," he directed his attention to Clint, "you make sure that your bruiser there doesn't turn his only shot at going back to normal into chunky salsa."

Steve took a shaky breath and barely managed to glance at Clint. "Just... don't, Barton."

Phil could see that there wasn't much chance of Steve managing to say more. He put a hand on Clint's shoulder, firm enough to be sure that he felt it even through the buzz he had going. "Now's not the time. You might not be worried about your marbles right now, but the rest of us are."

Meanwhile Steve had pulled Tony close, touching as lightly as he could manage while encased in the bulky metal. He couldn't help the tears, mission be damned, because Tony was there. He was real. He was alive. "I... God, Tony, I... love you," was all Steve managed before he kissed the other man gently. 

Not entirely pleased with the fact that the bloodlust seemed to be bleeding out of the group at the revelation of Stark's apparent wellness, Sif broke in, "Now is the time for action. We have put off this sentence too long."

Loki took a step back. He wasn't sure Sif could kill him before someone else could intervene, but he also wasn't entirely sure anyone else would intervene. "As Mr. Stark pointed out, I may be of some use in aiding Mr. Barton with his," Loki flicked a glance at the archer and his glowing gaze. It was familiar, and he looked away again. Guilt had its own time and place, but this was not it, "With his condition. Excellent as he feels now, he will feel a thousand times worse than where he began once he sets down the hammer. Isn't that right, brother?"

Thor nodded grimly, though he hated to agree with anything Loki said. Talking wasn't making the idea of killing his brother... his former bedmate... easier. "He speaks the truth," the thunder god said resignedly. "I spoke to our mother, and there would be nothing she could do to help him."

"I'm fine," Clint insisted, shrugging Phil's hand away, though he stayed put for the moment.

Tony finally drew away from the kiss. It was a little hard to concentrate with the others bickering around them, anyway. Besides, he had promised to vouch for Loki. "Look, he didn't kill me. And believe me, he could have." He took a deep breath. He knew that what he was about to say might well just result in everyone questioning his sanity rather than the intended effect. "He surrendered, he called off the Brotherhood, he made sure I didn't die, and he's the only one that can make sure that Legolas over there doesn't spend the rest of his life in the Fridge, so how about we maybe take him back to the Tower and debrief him?" He glanced at Loki. It was striking how vulnerable the god looked, unarmed and without his helmet and looking at Sif like she was the end of the line.

Thor scowled at Tony, then turned that scowl on Loki. "What did you do to him, brother? Is that even the Man of Iron, or is this more of your sorcery?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "It's not sorcery, you big idiot. First? Doesn't exist. Second? You're a dick. Third? He was actually kind of hoping to join the team."

Clint twitched at that, lifting the hammer a little and taking a step toward Tony. "Okay, whatever this is, it's irritating and mouthy, but it isn't Stark," he growled, looking poisonously toward Loki before turning his gaze back to the man pressed tightly against Steve. "I saw we kill 'em both and let Simmons figure it out."

Steve turned at that, his gaze narrowed and jaw set. He took a step in, not backing down for a second even if only the armor gave him the height needed to look Clint in the eye for the time being. "It is, and if you get too close right now, you're not going to need Loki's help," Steve warned in a tone so calm and even that it was slightly terrifying.

Coulson hit his comm and murmured, "Romanov, we could use your help up here. Logan, get Creed to the jet. We'll be there soon with more company than anticipated. I want him secured in the least comfortable part of the cargo hold."

It took less than a minute for Natasha to round the corner and take stock of the situation. "Clint, now's not the time. We need Loki in the plane, and we need him there fast. You're on herding duty, not killing duty. Creed didn't do anything to your brain, right? So you still remember that those two," she gestured to Steve and Tony, "are actually in charge at the moment?"

The muscles in Clint's jaw twitched as he stared hard at Natasha around the bulk of Steve's suit, but he lowered the hammer nonetheless. "Fine." His gaze drifted suspiciously to Tony. The archer had really been expecting to get to off Loki, and he still didn't trust that Tony wasn't some kind of illusion or fake or who-knew-what-else. He stepped back to Phil's side, though, his eyes moving to Loki suspiciously.

Thor took hold of his brother more gently than one might expect, placing cuffs on Loki's wrists. He couldn't deny the relief at the idea that they weren't going to kill Loki. At least, not yet.

Tony lingered behind Steve. He'd been about to call up his own suit when Clint had finally backed down. As the rest of the team started off for the plane, Tony hung back, his hand on Steve's arm to keep the blonde with him and give them some privacy to talk as they walked back. "Glad to see the armor's working." He gave his lover a faint smile. "Looks good on you." He raised an eyebrow, noticing something else as well. "You look like you've put on some weight."

 

"Starting to," Steve allowed with a flicker of a smile. "Fitz-Simmons and Bruce figured something out. They... we needed... with you gone..." He took a shaky breath and said, "I think I'm going to need to talk about it when I can cry a lot more and be wearing a lot less metal. I'm sure you built it out of something that doesn't rust, but I hate to take my chances." It didn't stop Steve from staying as close as humanly possible to Tony. While Thor led the way with Loki, Steve's gaze followed them. "I get that we need him to help Clint," he allowed, "but..." He wasn't even sure what to ask, but he hadn't missed the pity on Tony's face when he looked at the god. "He's a liar, Tony. It's what he does."

Tony tensed. He'd told himself the same thing a few dozen times over. Hearing it from someone else made him doubt the certainty he'd had moments before that Loki was sincere. "He is, Steve, but..." He glanced at the god in question, taking in Loki's stooped shoulders. He looked oddly small. "There are some things I don't think even Loki would lie about."

Steve wasn't sure how he felt about that comment, but he searched Tony's face, taking comfort in the sight alone, and finally nodded. "Okay." For the moment he was having trouble worrying about anything but the fact that he wanted to hold Tony so much he couldn't see straight. He wanted to assure himself that it wasn't a mirage, and stolen touches with metal in the way wasn't doing it. In his ear, Jarvis was saying something about notifying Pepper. "Yes, go ahead, Jarvis. Thank you." Steve barely took his eyes off of Tony as they walked. "You're alive." 

"Didn't we already establish that?" Tony quipped, then immediately felt a bit like a jerk for making light of it. Steve was obviously trying to reassure himself of that fact. Tony reached up to touch the man's cheek, since it was the only skin he could get at for the moment. "Yeah, I'm alive. I'm not an illusion, and you're not seeing things, even though I know technically me saying it doesn't really prove anything." Something else occurred to him that might help, and his fingers dipped down to a particular spot on Steve's neck. "There." He winked at Steve. "Not in any files. That's the spot that makes you squirm."

It was enough to bring a flush to Steve’s cheeks and a smile to his lips. “I know you’re you,” he assured quietly. 

If it hadn't been so dangerous, Phil would have taken the hammer. He wanted it the hell away from his lover. He wanted Clint safe and sound and not touching artifacts that might be tearing him apart from the inside out. "Look at it this way - maybe we can talk Logan into letting you take a few swings at Creed before he gets debriefed."

Clint's face twisted into a sadistic smirk at that idea. "I like that plan. Wonder how many times I can put him down before he begs me to stop," the archer muttered. He'd tied the hammer to his belt but he kept a hand on it, fingers idly tracing the runes on the handle as they walked. His eyes shimmered strangely. "I wanna see him break. Both of them."

"You don't," Phil countered, "the hammer does. You may be kind of a dick sometimes, Barton, but you're not a psycho." He hoped that a little of their usual banter would help keep Clint's head at least partly in the game. "Right now you're in a bad place." He glanced across at Natasha, and it took only a second of unspoken communication for them to be on the same page. "We're here to make sure you don't stay there. And to make sure you point that," he nodded down at the hammer, "at the right people."

Clint forced himself to take his hand away from the hammer, swallowing hard. "Right," he said, his eyes still shimmering with the subdued violet. The words were having their intended effect anyway, and he walked a little closer to his handler. "You're right. That's not me." Satisfying as it had been to crush Victor earlier, torturing him wasn't Clint's style. He hated the mutant, but Clint didn't have it in him to torment someone who was completely helpless. He met Phil's gaze. "I don't want it to be me."

Loki kept silent. None of them would believe anything he said, and having Thor walking solemnly beside him was maddening. He wanted to stick his foot out and trip the man, which in addition to being wildly juvenile would have accomplished nothing. "You don't seem as happy to hear of my impending death sentence as I would have expected," he finally grated out, casting his gaze over to see whether Thor flinched at the observation. "No great feast to celebrate the end to your troubles?"

The words had their intended effect, and Thor kept shame-filled eyes trained down the hallway. "I care for you, brother, no matter how much you despise me," he finally replied, his voice low. Sif was hanging back, and Thor briefly wondered if it was coincidence or she was deliberately trying to give them privacy. "I do not wish to see you dead." He finally gathered the nerve to look at Loki, trying not to flinch at the anger and resentment that stared back at him. "No matter what evil you inflict on others, I cannot seem to find it in my heart to hate you."

"But never to love me either." It was his turn to flinch, and Loki hated that he felt so exposed, so ragged after his time with Stark. It was usual for him to get under the skin of those around him. It was unusual for someone to get so deeply under his. "Nevermind. We both know the answer to that. I'd rather not hear more. If you wish to see me live through this, speak for me. Stark will, as much as he is able. Do the same, and perhaps I may yet live to see another day despite Agent Barton's strong conviction that I should be breathing far less than I am currently."

 

Thor clenched his teeth together at the hurt look in Loki's eyes. //All of this is my fault.// The thunder god couldn't help but blame himself. He'd hurt his brother in ways that couldn't be undone, and all for the sake of his image. He'd let his friends kick Loki around, and when the moment of truth had come, Thor had lied by omission and denial. He had loved Loki; he'd just been afraid to admit it to anyone. Even himself. Thor opened his mouth to deny the accusations, but the words stopped cold on his tongue when Loki changed the subject. Without thinking, he placed a hand on Loki's shoulder and promised, "I will speak for you, brother."

Loki looked up, surprised, and managed, "Thank you," before looking away again. It might mean nothing considering the situation, but an extra voice raised against the idea of his slaughter was still comforting. The plane loomed before them, and Loki hesitated at the ramp, glancing back over the Avengers trailing behind them along with Lady Sif. Her gaze was cold, and he turned away as quickly as he could without looking guiltier than he felt already. It was familiar being strapped into the back of the plane. The situation was far more fraught with tension, however, with the Widow glaring holes through him. Barton and Coulson looked as if they could barely breathe without being in one another's space. //My fault as well,// he thought, unaccustomed to the pang that followed the idea and frustrated at his inability to quell it and, more, his inability to think of any way to rectify it. 

Steve reluctantly kept the armor on after they boarded. He wanted to tear it all free, but he held back. Being vulnerable with both Creed and Loki on board was a bad idea. He'd thought about trying to gather the rest of the Brotherhood, but Loki was the ringleader. He and Magneto were both in their custody, and Creed was the only one who'd broken the temporary truce by attacking them. "When we get to headquarters, you'll have a lot of questions to answer," he said firmly to Loki. "We're going to expect straight answers."

"You'll get them," he answered quietly. "Whichever ones you desire, Captain."

Steve looked over at Tony and explained more gently, "I'm guessing you're gonna get a few of those questions too if you're up to it." His own personal desire to get Tony home, divest them both of their clothing and spend the next month reassuring himself that Tony wasn't dead weren’t a very practical or likely turn of events. Fury would want to know what had happened. 

"We'll get Creed in holding," Coulson included Logan in the invitation with a glance, "and then get the hammer in storage again." He wasn't willing to say that they wouldn't need it again considering the uncertain situation with Loki, but he knew they needed to get it the hell away from Clint before things got worse.

Clint tensed at the suggestion of giving up the hammer. It was on the deck between his feet again, and his fingers curled into the weapon's strap as he shook his head. "I can take care of it. It'll be fine."

When Phil looked ready to argue, Thor caught the man's eye and shook his head. Thor knew that pushing Clint on the matter at the moment would do no good, and that there was a fair chance of a dangerous outburst on Clint's part. The hammer had a powerful draw to it, especially for non-Asgardians.

Tony was nodding his assent. "Yeah, I'm sure Fury's gonna be all kinds of full of questions. Not sure how much information I can give, though. Maybe Fitz-Simmons can figure something out after a check-up. I'm guessing that the modifications they made to the suit saved me. I don't know what else it would've been." It gave him chills thinking of what it had felt like to use the gun. Tony was certain he'd died. "I can upload my suit's logs to see what my vitals did, too."

Steve nodded, too tense to even respond to the thought of seeing what the suit might have caught and been unable to send thanks to Loki blinking them halfway across the world. The trip back was tense and mostly silent. Creed was thankfully unconscious, but Loki's presence was enough to make them all feel uneasy. Somehow it was made worse by the fact that instead of snarking at them, the god sat in his seat looking almost ill. Steve struggled with every breath against the urge to get out of the suit. It was protection, safety, and they needed that even if he didn't want it as a barrier. Tony didn't exactly look fine, but he didn't look bad either, didn't look mistreated or miserable or like he was in desperate pain. He looked normal. Which meant that whatever Loki had done, he hadn't tortured Tony. Maybe he'd even helped him to be okay, and that meshed even less with anything Steve knew about the god.

By the time they got back to base, Phil wasn't sure which thing warring for its share of the stress he felt really won out. First there was the god who'd killed him, then there was the psychotic mutant who'd raped him, and then there was Clint clinging to an evil Asgardian weapon like it was a teddy bear he didn't intend to let go of. He rose the second May had the plane stilled. "Barton, Logan, Romanov, with me. Let's get that in a cell in the deepest, darkest corner of SHIELD we can find. If he's lucky he'll survive long enough to end up in the Fridge." It was a big if the way Clint was eyeing the mutant, honestly. 

Loki breathed in and squared his shoulders. "We go to Fury, then?" The man hated him, and the feeling was mutual. He might not really consider all humans insects, but Fury brought one to mind rather clearly. Making nice with him would be a rather fitting litmus test to see if he could suppress the desire to smite the idiots that would surround him on a regular basis on Midgard. 

"To Fury," Steve affirmed with a curt nod as he rose. He stopped himself short of holding out a hand to Tony. He knew from experience that holding hands with the suit wasn't entirely comforting, and he'd been plenty unprofessional about the whole thing already. Not that anyone had said anything. Not that they would. Still, he preferred to keep at least a shred of dignity. He flashed Bruce a smile. "Get some rest, do your paperwork. Tell Dr. Simmons that I'll check in with her as soon as I'm able. I'm sure Jarvis will make sure she has the readouts in the meantime." He turned to Tony and the smile brightened considerably despite the duty ahead of them. "Ready?"

Tony nodded, taking a deep breath. Questions were the last thing he was in the mood for, especially from Fury, but he wasn't going to leave his lover's side anytime soon. "Let's go."

"I shall accompany you, as well. It is only just," Thor said, following the three. He wanted a chance to speak for Loki also, though he kept that to himself.

Tony raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He was raising his hand to knock on Fury's door when it opened on its own.

Fury looked annoyed to see Loki. Then again, he usually looked annoyed about most things. He growled the god's name, sounding thoroughly disgusted that Loki was a prisoner and not a corpse. "Have a seat, gentlemen. And I guess the dead man can have a chair, too." He glowered at Steve. "Captain Rogers, if this... person did anything but surrender to you, I want a really good explanation of why he's still standing up."

"What, no 'glad you're alive, Tony'?"

Fury's gaze drifted to Tony. "I'll get to that in a minute. Glad you're not dead. Assuming you're you, and not some sort of Asgardian voodoo standing in my office."

"It's Tony," Steve assured quietly. That was one of the few things he was sure of for the moment, but it was plenty to keep him vertical and relieved instead of panicking even with Loki sitting in a chair next to him. At least with Thor flanking the man, he wasn't worried about Loki trying anything more stupid than his usual. "As for Loki... well, we need him to straighten Clint out, and besides that, he did surrender. He called down the Brotherhood too from what we can tell. Creed broke the truce, and he's getting carted down to a cell right now." That was a problem they'd need to deal with sooner rather than later. "He surrendered, offered the help without our asking, and... and Stark asked us to pull punches for the time being." He cast his gaze to Tony, leaving it open to him what more to say.

Loki remained pointedly quiet, for once waiting until he was addressed to speak. Faced with the reality of trying to explain anything he'd done, he felt sick with sudden fear. He could envision no way for Fury and the others to ever accept his hope of becoming their ally instead of their adversary. It was madness to think otherwise.// And perhaps I am as mad as they say…//

Director Nicholas J. Fury didn't often look surprised. There were people in SHIELD who claimed he wasn't capable of it. In reality, he just usually had the intel before anyone else. Hearing that Tony had actually defended Loki from the Avengers, even verbally, was enough to leave the Director looking earnestly shocked. He glanced at Steve. "And you're sure it's him?" Getting a nod, he looked back to Tony. "Okay, I need to hear this one, Stark."

Tony shifted uneasily in his chair. It was going to be a little difficult explaining everything without telling them Loki's secret and a bunch of other things he was pretty sure didn't need to be shared. "Look, Loki had a chance to kill me. We talked." He held up a finger when Fury looked ready to ask for details. "Personal stuff, Nick. I'm not here to air his dirty laundry," he said even as Fury gave him a look that suggested he'd like to strangle Tony himself. "Bottom line is, you can do all the brain scans you want on me, or whatever else it takes, but I came to this conclusion on my own. You should, at the least, leave him alive. But I think he'd be a valuable SHIELD asset, as well."

"Oh, you can bet there are going to be brain scans. You're going to Simmons right after this," Fury said, then pointed at Thor. "And you... you're going to ask me to let him live, too, aren't you? Considering how well Asgard held onto him last time, I'm not that inclined to play along."

Thor shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Tony. "Lord Fury, considering... considering the Man of Iron's suggestion, perhaps I could leave my brother in your custody for safekeeping? If you intend to keep him alive, that is." He paused, placing a hand on Loki's shoulder once more. "He has no place he calls his own on Asgard, in spite of my offers. Perhaps, if he wishes, he could find a place here?"

Fury looked like he was certain he was slowly going sane in an insane world. "I don't remember walking through any funhouse mirrors this morning. Rogers! Please, say something that makes sense."

It was one of those moments where Steve found himself honestly wishing that he was a little more inclined to violence. It was one thing fighting an opponent who was holding their own, but Loki wasn't. He wasn't even trying. While it was easy to believe that it was all an act, the fact that Tony didn't see it that way was enough to give him serious pause. "Right now, sir, I'm not sure what to think." He turned his gaze to Loki and drew himself up to full height, which wasn't much, though the armor helped add a little bit of bulk. "What's the angle?"

Loki met his gaze as evenly as he dared without it seeming like a challenge. "My 'angle,' as you put it, is that I have nowhere to go. It is no surprise to you that I have worn out any welcomes that have been offered to me. I have no home on Asgard save in a cell, and I have no wish to spend the rest of my existence barely living." He dared to look at Tony only for a moment before he shifted his gaze to Fury. "Mr. Stark felt that if I were able to prove myself that, perhaps in time... that I could be of help here." The words felt strange on his tongue, but not entirely wrong. "I realize there is no way to make amends, but I can help. I would... like to help."

Steve sat stunned in the wake of the request. Thor and Tony pulling for the idea was bizarre. Hearing Loki genuinely asking for their help in his own roundabout way was enough to leave him feeling like he was having a stroke. "Sir, I don't see... I..." He shook his head, rubbing his fingers over his forehead to ward off an impending headache, and finally tried again, "I don't see how we could trust him, Sir."

Fury stared hard at Loki, surprised to see nothing but fear and vulnerability there. That was something he'd yet to see in the Asgardian. "So, let me get this straight: you show up, try to kill us all, turn one of my best agents into your personal playtoy, go to prison, break out, break one of my Avengers, nearly kill one, abduct two of my best agents... I'm sure I'm leaving things out here, but you get the idea. And now you want me to let you not only live, but stay here and join the Avengers?"

"You forgot killing Phil." Tony raised an eyebrow at the strange twitch that got out of Fury, but stayed focused on the subject. "I mean, that's pretty much the long version, but I think that's what he's going for," Tony said, earning another glare from Fury, which phased him not at all.

"Lord Fury, there are... we have ways on Asgard of limiting his sorcery, should you wish it. And I am willing to stay here until you feel he can be trusted," Thor offered. He hadn't really thought that one through, but it seemed like a good idea. They couldn't leave the hammer in Clint's hands, and Thor knew that, aside from the unpredictable Hulk, only another Asgardian would have any chance of standing toe to toe with Loki.

Fury settled back in his seat, staying quiet so long that Tony was about to ask if he'd flatlined. Finally, the Director sat forward and looked Steve hard in the eyes. "Rogers, the Avengers are yours. You take control of this... situation, and make the call. And you," he pointed at Thor, seemingly unphased by the fact that the Asgardian could crush him like a bug, "you're staying with him if we're not putting him down. He's your deadbeat brother."

Loki flinched not at the admonition but at the implication that he somehow belonged to Thor. It was an old wound and one that he didn't particularly enjoy prodding. Still he managed to say nothing and was proud of that show of self control. "Captain? I don't expect you to trust me." He inclined his head and said, "Actually, I would worry for your integrity and common sense if you trusted me, but I can help. You know that because you are not a stupid man. I ask only for a chance, and as I would have a baby-sitter, there would be little risk to your team." 

Steve wasn't quite so sure about that. He was fairly certain that the greatest danger when it came to Loki was from his words not his actions, but he sighed heavily. It was a big decision. It was a terrible decision. He could turn away a man who by all appearances genuinely needed and wanted a second chance, or he could give him a death sentence. From the sound of things, Loki wasn't particularly interested in the idea of a life without purpose, and that twanged more than a few warnings signals along the way for Steve. He finally turned to Tony. "I need to know if you really think this is something that could work. You heard more than we have, and I won't ask you to tell me, but with what you know... can this work? Can we trust him?"

Tony glanced back at Loki for a moment as if trying to reassure himself that he wasn't losing his mind. The god still looked miserable, broken, everything but dangerous, really, which wasn’t the same as him being safe. His gaze drifted back to Steve. "He's a cocky, self-centered asshole that doesn't play well with others, and he's smarter than the average person on his planet." He raised an eyebrow and smirked faintly. "Sound familiar?"

Fury groaned. "Stark, if you start wearing drapes around the tower-"

"I'm fine," Tony replied without looking away from Steve. "It can work." He didn't bat an eye as he said so. "Even if it doesn't, between Thor and the Hulk, I think we can deal with any crap he tries to pull." He turned back to Loki. "Just be ready for no one to trust you for a while. And for Barton to probably want to kill you. I'd probably avoid him if I were you. At least until you've fixed his hammer problem."

"I think it might be prudent for all of us to do that post haste," Loki agreed. "I appreciate his position on the matter, but I rather enjoy breathing, at least some of the time."

Even Steve couldn't entirely keep from smiling faintly at the words. He heaved a sigh and looked at Fury with a shake of his head. "We try it. I don't... I'm fairly certain I'm going to regret this on so many levels I can't even count that high, but we try it. I hate it, but I don't think I'd be able to live with the alternative."

The sentiment was grudging, certainly, but earnest, and Loki said, "Thank you, Captain."

Steve looked at him evenly. "If I find out any of this is a lie, I let Hulk and your brother settle who gets what pieces of you when it's done. Understood?"

Loki swallowed his pride and resigned himself to long days under the scrutiny of the man he loathed most in the world. "Understood." It would be worth it. It could be worth it. "Now, I believe Agent Barton is in need of some of my 'sorcery' as you put it, brother." He arched an eyebrow at Fury, silently requesting permission.

“Get the hell out of my office,” Fury grunted with a wave of his hand.


	17. In Holding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the trash is rounded up and Clint needs to get help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More an interlude than a full chapter, just fyi.

Logan fell to immediately on receiving his orders and moved to pick Victor up. With the adamantium skeleton, Victor's dead weight was too much, though, for Logan to simply scoop up. "Little help?" he asked, eyes fixed on Clint as the most obvious choice.

The archer hesitated a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Alright." He took a deep breath, then moved in to shoulder some of Creed's weight. The mutant's scent washed over him, and it took several carefully controlled breaths to keep Clint from throwing up. "Let's get him downstairs," he grated, his free hand closing around the handle for reassurance. Clint was relieved to see that some junior agents had brought them a gurney to dump Creed onto for the rest of the trip. He wasn't remotely interested in hauling the mutant all the way down to the cell block on his shoulder.

Logan took over pushing the gurney, though he felt as if, for the moment, Creed needed protection from Clint more than any of them needed protection from him.

"If the gurney happened to fall down an elevator shaft while on fire," Coulson began in a carefully neutral tone that still got him a raised eyebrow from Natasha, "I'm just saying that I happen to know what paperwork to file in that eventuality. That's all." It was damn hard escorting the man when he really would just as soon have been dumping a body as booking him. It was a pretty fact, but it was true just the same. Only an abiding sense of duty and a desire to not end up in prison himself kept Coulson from making the call. That and the fact that he knew he needed to stick to his guns if he expected Clint to do the same.

Natasha snorted and broke the momentary tension. "No offense, Logan, but I'm half tempted to take him up on that even if filling out SHIELD paperwork for hours on end can make your eyes bleed."

"I'd be more offended if I felt like this guy was my brother in any sense but your freakin' paperwork," Logan replied. Looking at Creed, he could vaguely see the family resemblance. Which made him want to kill the guy all the more, considering what he'd done.

"Too bad he’s so fucking indestructible," Clint growled. The blow Creed had taken, Clint was sure, would have killed Loki. Considering the mutant's regenerative powers, it was impressive that he was still unconscious.

"Look, we all wanna kill 'im, so let's stop talkin' about it before one of us actually decides to. I don't feel like talkin' to Fury right now."

It was a valid point, and Phil actually felt abashed for having been the one to bring it up. Logan was right: it didn't help. "I don't think any of us do," he agreed instead of addressing the primary issue, leaving it lie for the time being.

"Wonder how Scott's doing with Lady Sif. She seems... interesting, actually," Natasha observed. The woman was icy cold in battle, but she didn't seem like a bad sort. Of course maybe that was just the fact that she hated Loki with equal passion. It was the kind of thing that made Natasha feel closer to anyone. She eyed Clint carefully. "You and Coulson should get some rest, hit the showers. We can baby-sit him the rest of the way down."

Clint nodded. Much as he wanted to beat Creed until the mutant begged for mercy, he wanted to be away from him more. He let the two continue down the hallway, leaning lightly against Phil as they turned back toward the elevators. With the battle over and the hammer reassuringly clipped to his belt, Clint was feeling a little more level. "Well, he can't hurt us now," he remarked, though he wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure Phil or himself more.

"No. If Fury is as thorough as usual, he won't be hurting anyone at all," Phil agreed with a heavy sigh. He nodded toward the hammer. "You okay if we drop that off with R&D? They're going to want to check it out after all this. We haven't seen what the readings do once it's been in use this long, and Simmons is going to want to have every conceivable bit of biofeedback from you she can get her hands on." The hope that Clint might give it up willingly if it sounded like a routine drop was a slim one but worth trying out just the same. "I'm sure Stark and Rogers will be doing a check in there too." Simmons would be like a kid on Christmas morning with so much data to sift through and Tony back to boot.

Clint tensed, quickly stepping back from his handler and eyeing him as if he expected an attack. "She can have whatever readings she wants off of me, but it needs to stay with me," he said, his voice soft but his eyes steely, glimmering again with the strange energy. "We know it's dangerous to anyone but me." He looked down at the weapon, fingers trailing over the runes on the handle. "Besides, why should they have it? I can use it to protect us."

"You gonna sleep with it too? Because my bed is big, but I'm thinking that thing might be a little much for the box springs to handle." Phil didn't like the look in Clint's eyes, all glowing aside. "Okay, you take it up so we can get the readings," he agreed. Thor's look on the jet had been clear. If they had to wait for Loki to separate Clint front the weapon, then they would. Noting that Clint was still standing a few feet away and staring at him like he might lunge forward and take it, he assured, "I know I can't handle it. I saw what happened to Logan and to Stark, and I'm not either one of them. One death was fine. Let's get to the lab."


	18. Taking Out the Trash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan and Scott take a moment for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one that's more of an interlude. Sorry, sometimes that's just how these things happen ;)

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief when the cell closed. Creed wasn't showing any signs of waking, and she frankly didn't care if he ever did, but she wanted him under lock and key when and if it happened. "For the record, no one cares whose brother he is. He's insane, and that's his own problem, not yours." She didn't want Logan thinking that behind his back anyone was saying anything else. She studied him a moment longer. "You know what he did?"

Logan's jaw tightened and he nodded, staring at Victor's still form. His expression sat somewhere between disgust and anger. He glanced at Natasha. "You know, too, then," he said. He shook his head. "If I had any idea of how to kill him, I'd recommend it to Fury in a heartbeat. That Fridge o' yours seems like the next best thing." He frowned, then glanced at Nat. He'd picked up on something else on the plane ride back, and it seemed like a bad idea not to tell someone. Preferably someone level-headed. "Somethin'... Stark's himself, far as I can tell, but..." He shifted uneasily, not quite sure how to put what he'd noticed. "He had Loki all over 'im."

Natasha stiffened at the news, her gaze narrowed. She tensed and then sighed, leaning against the wall. There were a lot of potential reasons, a lot of explanations. "Let's keep that between us for now," she finally decided. Steve didn't need to hear it unless Tony had been forced. Even considering the implications of the alternative, she didn't hope for that. "Right now let's all be happy he's alive. We can worry about him having terrible coping skills and making awful life choices later." Natasha pushed herself off the wall and started back toward the elevator. "You should rest too. I can spell Scott giving Lady Sif something to do. You boys deserve the downtime as much as anyone."

Logan nodded. "Yeah. And I won't share the news, believe me. Just figured someone with a good head on their shoulders should know what was going on," he said, giving Nat's shoulder a squeeze. "See you later, darlin'."

He had Jarvis lead him back to Scott, and smiled at his lover, watching the man attempting to interact with Sif. The Asgardian woman towered over Scott, making the scene that much more amusing. "You two havin' fun?"

"It's been an education," Scott answered with a smile. Sif wasn't exactly a laid back, relaxed sort of lady. Still, she was undeniably fascinating. Talking to Sif and Thor was like interacting with characters from a book of fairy tales, at once strange and intriguing. "You and Natasha get Creed checked into his brand new temporary home?" Though he knew that Creed was Logan's brother, he mostly just thought of the guy as a crazy pain in the ass, and the idea of him being permanently under lock and key was soothing. One less nutjob in the world was always a good thing. 

 

Logan grinned, offering Sif a slight bow. It felt silly and appropriate all at once. "Lady Sif, I think Natasha was going to show you to your room. Or some dinner if you'd rather. Jarvis can tell you where to find her," he said, closing in on Scott as he spoke. He didn't really give two shits about what Sif might think as he took the man's hand. "We should get some drinks tomorrow night, though. You 'n' Thor both."

"I would be most honored," Sif answered, smiling at the pair of them, the expression almost sly as she watched Scott step in closer. "I leave you to your own merriment, my new friends." She turned and followed Jarvis' polite directions to find Natasha.

Scott wasted not a moment in leaning in to kiss Logan soundly. The day had been downright joyful overall, and he was buzzed from it in addition to being exhausted from the tension that led up to the good parts and the lingering uncertainty about whether they'd manage to get Barton back into his right mind without breaking him. "Dinner? I'm not really hungry, but I'll sit with you while you eat. Or we can snack in your room. Or... just..." He let his forehead fall against Logan's shoulder with a sigh. "Let's be not with people, huh? I'm tired of people."

"I think I can get behind that sentiment," Logan decided, kissing Scott again. It felt like it had been too long without the other man pressed close to him. "Been a long day. But glad for the happy ending." He glanced around the rec room. "I think everybody else is gonna be busy. Wanna use that big screen TV and catch a movie?" He wasn't sure how good he'd be about keeping his hands to himself, but he was willing to try. They needed the quiet and the normalcy.

Scott let out a sigh of bliss and nodded. "Yes. Please? Yes. Something calming and stupid." He was the first to admit that there were times when he could be a real sucker for in depth period dramas and rambling documentaries. They were engrossing. The last thing Scott wanted for the moment was to be sucked in. He wanted to be transported. "Like, seriously, Disney? Pixar? Fluff. Raid Clint's stuff. Coulson mentioned him having a fetish for Pixar."

"Pixar." Logan repeated the word as of trying to get his head around one of the deadliest agents in SHIELD watching cartoons. He tugged Scott to the couch and settled him in, then turned to the DVD collection. He grabbed the copy of Finding Nemo and tossed it into the player before settling beside the other man with a smile. "I guess it makes sense. They're kinda trauma-proof."

"As long as it's not Up. That is not trauma-proof." Scott caught Logan's raised eyebrow and shrugged. "I cried. Like a baby. Multiple times. I can't help it if you're made out of stone." He curled into Logan's side despite his griping and used the man's shoulder as a convenient pillow. "And Toy Story. Still love those, though. Just... this is a good choice. Nemo. Despite the dead mom thing. What is it with Disney and dead parents?"

"Every kid's worst nightmare," Logan muttered in spite of having no memory of what had happened to his own parents. If he'd even known them. Considering his brother, Logan had the ugly feeling that whatever it was, it hadn't been a good memory he'd lost. He pulled Scott close, resting his chin on top of the man's head as if to wrap him up completely. It felt good to just hold Scott, breathe him in, and know that they were as safe as anyone in a tower full of freaks and and gods could be. 

Scott didn't bother replying. He agreed with the sentiment, harsh as it was, and he frankly didn't want to think anymore about it. He wanted to snuggle up to Logan, watch the movie, and pretend that the outside world wasn't even there. Slowly the day began to fall from his shoulders. Tony was safe. Loki was being watched by Thor. Creed was in lock up. At least relatively speaking, they were safe. Scott closed his eyes to enjoy that thought. When he opened them, Scott felt better. He slumped bonelessly against Logan and let his arms wrap comfortably around the man's waist. For the moment the two of them were the only thing that really mattered.


	19. Fit as a Fiddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the science team helps out and Loki actually tries to fix something for once.

Bruce made sure to grab a hug from Tony and tell the man he was glad he was alive before he headed back to his suite. He took a few moments to put on clothes that didn't smell like the inside of a cargo plane and put himself back together. He knew he should probably be resting, but he didn't feel tired. Far from it. He was anxious to see if Tony's nanosuit had uploaded it's information once they'd gotten back to the tower. If Jarvis was on his game, it would have been. He was even more anxious, though, to just see Jemma and give her some good news.

He slipped quietly into the lab, smiling to see her and Fitz hunched over their monitors and chattering back and forth. "Working on the next big thing?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling warmly.

"He's alive! Oh, this..." Jemma could think of no other way to express how she felt but with a broad smile. 

Fitz looked equally pleased. In fact he was too excited to remember that he was supposed to be jealous of Bruce and instead waved the man over to point excitedly at the screen. "Jarvis has been filtering through the information from the suit, and it worked! All of it! Well, most of it. Alright, so technically Mr. Stark was dead for a few seconds, but then the nanobots kicked, and look at this!"

"Jarvis, we're going to have to talk about you stealing my thunder," Bruce said, still grinning ear to ear as the AI acknowledged him with a tacit "of course, sir." Pleased that the good news was enough to cure even Fitz's sour puss, Bruce looked the data over, eyebrows raised. "That's amazing." He clapped both of them on the back with a big grin. "He's not gonna be thrilled to have his ass saved by a couple of rookies, but... well, you two saved his life. That's pretty damned amazing," he repeated.

Fitz grinned, and he and Jemma shared a small high five before the blond sobered slightly. “How’s he handling it all? And Captain Rogers?”

"He's relieved. And still trying to wrap his head around it, I think. Both of them are," Bruce said, still amused to see the pair so excited. "And you should definitely hold it over his head. If he threatens anyone, I'll explain to him why that's not okay." He glanced at Jemma, giving her a smile that he was sure looked a little dopey. "I don't suppose there's coffee? I could use some. Especially if we're going rooting through telemetry."

"Yes! One second." Jemma didn't bother asking how he liked it. She had a good head on her shoulders, and the first thing she tended to learn about anyone was how they liked their coffee or tea. She returned with fresh mugs for each of them in varying shades of brown and varying levels of sweetness, passing them out in turn. "I have a feeling it may be a bit of a late day." Jemma offered Bruce a private little smile while Fitz pored over something beside them. "Not quite a coffee date, but considering all the data we'll be getting, it's a relief to have the help."

"Next date was dinner, anyway," Bruce reminded her, winking over his mug of coffee. He glanced towards Fitz, wondering if the engineer was deliberately giving them space or really just absorbed in what he was doing. "Besides, I'm interested to see what we get and talk it over." And he wanted to see Jemma's eyes light up. "You know, they caught Loki. Guess that means I get to watch you two scare him."

A few moments later, as if on cue, and Loki and his escorts were stepping into the lab.

Tony more or less pounced on Fitz, giving the young man a massive hug and ruffling his hair. "I think I owe you and Simmons thanks a couple times over," he said as he let Fitz go. "Though I gotta say, these near-death experiences are getting old."

"I'm guessing you're not here to give out hugs," Bruce observed, eyeing Loki before giving Jemma a conspiratorial smile.

"Well, for one thing, we need Barton up here to surgically remove him from that source of unspeakable evil he's carrying around," Tony remarked, then glanced at Jemma. "And Fury wants you to make sure I'm not a pod person."

 

"That... we can do that," she agreed, all intention of doing anything else forgotten in the pleasure of him being whole and apparently happy. She eyed Loki over his shoulder and was surprised after all she'd heard and read to see him standing placidly and waiting. "Captain, could you remove the armor? I'd like to give you a look too."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve agreed, pleased to be peeling the layers off even if it took him at least five times the amount of time and effort it usually took Tony. He was sweaty and tired but thrilled to be free of the casing. It was odd to see changes in his own body over so short a period of time and not slightly off-putting. "Make sure Tony's okay first." Watching Tony move and walk and talk was a hell of a gift, one he hadn't thought he'd be lucky enough to receive. His gaze only left the man when it had to.

Loki felt his stomach twist as he gazed on the scene. It was so easy to see the threads of it all, to see who was attached to who and how. The curly-haired boy was in love with the girl, the girl wanted Bruce, and that seemed to be mutual. Stark was in love with Rogers, and Rogers was looking at the man like he'd hung the moon. Loki found himself staring at the floor just to keep from throwing up on the perfectly kept laboratory. "I'll continue standing here and making everyone feel awkward, shall I?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow, surprised to see the god looking so forlorn. Even when he'd been crumpled on the floor of Stark tower, Loki hadn't looked so hurt and miserable. "You're, uh... you're fine," he assured, wondering if the fact that he felt sorry for Loki was normal. He was suddenly feeling guilty for wanting to scare the Asgardian.

With Steve out of the armor, it was an exercise in every ounce of discipline he didn't have for Tony to remain still long enough for Simmons to make sure he was alright. The second she gave him permission to move again, he was across the room and tugging Steve up against him. He didn't give half a damn that the man was covered in sweat or that there was a significant audience. He needed to feel his lover against him, to breathe him in and touch him.

Steve let out an entirely undignified sound and buried his face against Tony's neck. Touching him, holding him even with their clothing in the way and knowing he smelled like the inside of a gym bag, was perfection. The tears came, and he squeezed his eyes shut to ignore everything but the way it felt. "Love you. Tony, I love you so much." There were a million other things to say and ask and know, but none of them mattered until they could be alone. 

Though she hated to interrupt the moment, Simmons quietly cleared her throat. "Captain? I'm afraid I need to check your vitals as well. It shouldn't take a moment." Thanks to Stark's equipment, the process was quick and relatively painless regardless of what they needed to know.

"Sure. Of course." Steve drew away a little but wouldn't let go entirely, his hand clinging to Tony's. He knew she only needed so much access and made a note to bring the woman flowers for not batting an eyelash. 

"You're honestly doing brilliantly. Still a good deal of weight and a few inches to put on, of course, but, Captain, you're very nearly normalized." Simmons was beaming at the man as she spoke and offered a soft smile to Tony as well. "I think you're well on the road to recovery. Give it another day or two, and I don't think anyone will have any idea this ever happened.

Thor could see the pain in his brother, and it cut at him, as well. The god silently resolved to himself to talk with his brother when they had privacy. "Brother, perhaps you should take a seat," he suggested gently, gesturing toward an empty chair near one of the consoles.

As Simmons finally got a chance to look Steve over, Phil and Clint walked in, and Clint balked a moment at the mass gathering, looking at everyone suspiciously. "Alright, what's going on?" he wanted to know, his hand moving to the hammer.

Loki had just taken a seat as directed, hoping that he could sit quietly in the corner for awhile and be properly ignored, when the doors opened again. He watched Clint's hand fall to the hammer and felt a rush of annoyance. The fear was gone - he doubted that, much as anyone in the room hated him, they would stand idly by and let Barton kill him in cold blood - but that left plenty of room for other things. "It's a tea party, Agent Barton." He ignored the acidic look that Coulson shot in his direction. "We were waiting for you, actually."

Though Coulson's shoulders were so tense he wasn't sure he couldn't have relaxed if he was paid to, he managed not to say any of the inappropriate things he was thinking. "Well, we're here. Dr. Simmons, I thought this might be a good time to check Agent Barton's vitals."

"Of course, Sir. Right away." She glanced at Bruce, eyebrows slightly raised, then hurried over with a smile that looked patently fake. "Agent Barton, do you think you could sit down for me? I'd just like to make sure that everything is as it should be." She barely noticed Loki getting up and drifting in closer to them.

Clint watched her suspiciously, backing away until his legs hit a gurney. The hammer hadn't dulled his ability to tell when someone was hiding something. Especially when it was Simmons. The woman was the worst liar on the planet, he was certain. He almost hadn't noticed Bruce sidling up to the young woman, and his gaze turned to the man. 

"Clint, I think you'd better have a seat," he said, far less patiently than Jemma had, looking at the archer in a way that said he wouldn't mind letting the Other Guy explain why he should if it came down to it. 

Clint's eyes flicked to Coulson. He still hadn't really registered Loki's proximity, and he settled uneasily on the gurney at his back, leaving the hammer on the floor, the toe of his boot hooked through the strap. "Alright. Hurry up."

"Of course," Simmons answered with the same smile, at once grateful for and nervous about Bruce's presence. She hated putting him in deliberately stressful situations considering what that did to his equilibrium, but it could hardly be helped. Nervously she began taking readings while Clint stared at her like he expected her to snatch the hammer away. That was the very last thing in the world she wanted. 

Loki had no such qualms. He bent and snatched the hammer in one smooth motion, throwing it toward his brother without concern for whether Thor would actually catch it or not and pressed his hands to the side of Barton's face before the archer had a chance to retaliate. "Forgive me, Mr. Barton, but I didn't think you would be as amenable if I asked nicely."

It took every ounce of Phil's self control not to throw himself between them. The fact was that they needed Loki's help, and even if it made him sick to allow the god to lay hands on Clint, it was for the best. He hoped.

Clint's hands were fisted in the fabric if Loki's sleeves, trying to push him away, but whatever the god was doing to him made it impossible to move. "Let me go," he managed to grate out, the energy swirling more strongly in his eyes. 

Thor gripped the hammer tightly as it quivered in his hand, trying to answer Clint's call much as Mjolnir would Thor's. Fortunately, Mjolnir seemed to give Thor the strength to resist its counterpart's pull both literally and figuratively. 

Clint cried out painfully as a small shock wave rocked the room, knocking a few devices and jars from their shelves. He sagged a moment later in Loki's grip, sweating and trembling and looking like he'd just gone through withdrawal. "Okay... okay, lemme go," he muttered shakily. He felt himself again, and he sure as hell didn't want all the reminders that having Loki so close and holding his face brought. 

 

Loki immediately stepped away, hands held up in case anyone got any thoughts of trying to protect Clint. He'd seen the look on the man's face, knew what he was thinking, and he was happy to retreat from the accusatory stare. 

"Hey," Phil reached for one of Clint's shaking hands while Simmons fluttered around them taking readings. "Hey, look at me. You're fine. You're going to be just fine." He hoped that was true and looked up to see Simmons give him a half shrug that said she had no better an idea than he did. 

Steve let himself breathe again as the room settled into awkward silence. He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave the room and take Tony away. He also didn't want to leave the team alone with Loki. Given that most of them were together, it was as good a time as any to fill them in. "Loki's going to be staying here for awhile with Thor as a bodyguard. He's... well, he's more or less asked for asylum, and we're granting it on a trial basis."

It took Coulson a moment to even understand the words. A slow blink was the only outward sign of the internal processing going on. "May I ask what the benefit to the Avengers might be in that scenario?"

Steve winced but met his gaze evenly a beat later. "You know what he can do, Agent Coulson. This isn't my first choice either, but it's... we're trying it out."

"If it's any consolation, I am sorry," Loki chimed in, looking more uncertain than anything at saying the words. 

"For killing me or for mocking me while doing it?"

It was a fair question. "For killing you, primarily. I'm afraid making comments in poor taste is something I'm not likely to recover from. I prefer not apologizing for behavior I'm likely to repeat."

Clint had almost immediately collapsed against Coulson, his face buried in the man's neck as he shook as he clung to his handler with what little strength he had. Having the hammer's influence ripped away from him had left him feeling vulnerable. The weapon had given him a sort of drive, had churned up his need for vengeance, his motivation to fight and persevere. Without it, he felt half broken as he fought back the memories of what Loki had done to him crashing in so close to what Creed had done to him. Hearing the exchange between Phil and the god, Clint drew away from Coulson enough to bare his teeth at Loki. "There's nothing you could say or do to make up for what you've done to us," he snarled, pulling himself up a little as anger overrode fatigue and good sense. "The things you made me do... I... I was supposed to kill you. You should be dead."

Bruce cringed. Clint looked more like a wounded animal than a person, cornered and terrified. He could relate to that on a very uncomfortable level. The scientist gently slid a hand onto Clint's shoulder. "Clint... Thor's not going to let him hurt anyone, and you don't need to hurt him. He's a prisoner. You don't kill prisoners in cold blood. That's not you," he insisted quietly, relieved when Clint seemed to relax and nod faintly, settling back on the edge of the gurney. "He did help you."

Thor couldn't help but pity Loki a little. His brother was earnestly trying to make up to the Avengers, but there wasn't a clear path to doing so. The thunder god moved to stand behind his brother, not as a threat but as a show of solidarity. He kept his hands to himself, though, not wanting Loki to feel like he was about to get roughed up or as if he was being patronized.

Tony swallowed hard, wondering if he was doing the right thing in encouraging Loki to stay. He was pretty sure Loki didn't need to be rejected yet again, and he was also wondering if Clint and Phil would be able to even tolerate the god's presence in the tower. He leaned against Steve, wishing desperately that they could slip away and have some private time together to reassure one another that they were both real and alive and healthy.

Loki cast about, trying to think of something, and finally looking up at Clint and Coulson with a flicker of something in his eyes. "Stark mentioned that you don't remember how it is that you're alive, Agent Coulson." He waited until the man nodded tightly and didn't miss the glare that Coulson sent Tony's way. "I cannot change the fact that I was responsible for your death, but I can give you back the memory of what happened. I can open that door for you." It would be easy, really, if he had the permission to do so. If Coulson would let him in, it was a simple task and something he could give as a show of good faith.

Coulson hesitated. It was tempting. Even knowing the dangers inherent in saying yes, it was tempting. He wanted to know so badly that there were nights he could focus on little else but the itch of memory at the back of his mind. Sometimes he could almost see parts of it, see something beyond the massages and daiquiris that felt too picturesque to be real. "I don't want you in my head," he finally bit out.

Though the god deflated visibly, he nodded just the same. "The offer stands. I'm not going anywhere, and until someone is willing to trust me to do something, I suspect I won't be terribly busy." Less flippantly, he added, "I owe a debt to all of you. You may come to me with any need you see fit."

It was a more generous offer and more kindly put than Steve had expected. He sighed and took a moment to collect himself. "Thank you. We appreciate the sentiment, but this is going to be a slow process if it works at all. Dr. Simmons, do you have what you need?"

"From you and from Mr. Stark, yes. Uh, Mr... er, Loki, I would like to examine you as well, but there's no hurry. You're welcome to settle into your room right now. I need to tend to Agent Barton if Dr. Banner is willing to stay and help?" Jemma cast Bruce a hopeful smile. Clint looked like death warmed over, and she wanted the back up if nothing else in case Clint lose it entirely. Even as she watched, Coulson was holding on a little tighter to the archer, silently and stoically protecting him from Loki. As if it would help if he really decided to try something.

Loki cursed under his breath but rose. "Come, brother, I suspect we share a suite?" It was going to be a very special day in his personal hell.

Bruce nodded, well aware of Jemma's reservations about being left with no protection from Clint. He looked over the man's vitals. "You seem alright. Just really stressed. You could frankly use an anti-anxiety drug. Nothing to knock you out. Just calm you down," he suggested gently.

Clint started to refuse, then thought better of it. He felt like he'd just come back from ten missions rolled into one, and something to soothe his rattled nerves sounded like a good idea. Phil was doing a damned good job of it, but Clint felt he could use a boost. “Yeah, probably a good idea.”

Bruce smiled, glancing at Jemma. "We've got something, right?"

"Several somethings," she agreed with obvious relief before rummaging through a locked cabinet until she found something. "Ah! Here we are..." She grabbed two bottles and stuck a syringe into one of them, carefully measuring out a dosage before preparing Clint's arm and sliding the needle smoothly beneath his skin. "Nothing terribly strong. You shouldn't feel sleepy, exactly, just relaxed. Very relaxed. These," she held up another bottle, "will help you sleep tonight. Just one a night for as long as you need them." Jemma looked to Coulson and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Actually, they might do both of you some good."

Badly as Coulson wanted to protest, he didn't, just took the bottle and slipped it into an inner pocket on his suit coat. "Thank you. Is it okay if we head out? No offense to the lab, but it isn't what I'd call restful."

"Oh, of course. I'll keep checking things out, and if I find anything that's at all amiss, I'll let you both know immediately, but," Jemma assured hurriedly, "I don't anticipate any issues."

Bruce watched the pair go. "Good thing they have each other," he muttered to himself. It was painful to see someone so strong suffering so much, and Phil looked no better off; he just hid it better. Bruce could see the hurt in the agent, though, especially when Coulson looked at Clint. He glanced at Jemma, trying to focus more on the positive. "So, you gonna be alright with Loki tomorrow? I'm sure Thor will help me back you up. Should be interesting." He glanced at Fitz. "You two get to be the first people on the planet to examine a living, breathing Asgardian up close that isn’t Thor."

"I'm sure we'll be just fine. Right?" she looked back at Fitz.

He stared back at her like she was a complete idiot for a moment before catching on and forcing a smile instead. "Oh, sure. Not a problem. Just because he's actually managed to kill more than one member of the Avengers in the past, and he controls minds and... Jemma, really, what can an examination-"

"Hush. It will be fine," Jemma snapped, ending the discussion with a well-aimed glare. "Loki seems as if he's on his best behavior, and I'm sure he won't give us any more trouble than we're used to. I suspect Stark is a more dangerous patient, really, considering he runs the computer systems."

Fitz looked contemplative at that and finally nodded. "Yeah, might have a point. Woe be unto him who angers the man who controls the wifi."

Bruce managed a good laugh at that one. "Not to mention, Tony's at least as likely to say something soul-crushingly hurtful," he pointed out. "And I have the feeling that even if Loki doesn't respect his brother, he won't want me to have to let the other guy explain exactly why he needs to sit still." Bruce hated using the Hulk - //Being the Hulk...?// He wasn't sure how to put it. - with every fiber of his being. That didn't mean he didn't sometimes get a kick out of scaring the hell out of deserving individuals with the threat. Loki was definitely one of those he wasn't above terrorizing.

Jemma smiled in return and agreed, "No, I suspect he doesn't. In time, we might find other means to control - if the need arose, of course. Something temporary. Like the muzzle that Thor used before? I've seen pictures. But less invasive, perhaps. A collar? Something to dampen whatever it is he uses to..." She cast around for a better way to put it and finally rolled her eyes. "Whatever he uses to cast spells and fiddle with people's minds." The young women gave Bruce a warning look. "It isn't magic. It isn't. But the terminology seems apt."

"Until we understand it," Bruce agreed with a nod. "Maybe some sort of nanotechnology? Or even integrated genetic modification. But it seems like they actually have to have some preexisting latent ability with it." He brought up a tablet and pulled up everything SHIELD had to date on Asgardians. "It's hard to tell. Most of our instruments can't seem to comprehend their technology. Not really. Closest we got was Hydra's tesseract weaponry, and even they were just monkeys with cigarette lighters when it came down to it."

"Whatever they have my be so innate it's beyond them too. Like the tesseract. It couldn't have come from Hydra itself. They were no more advanced than we are. Less before they wiped out," Jemma reasoned, frowning at the words on the screen as she read through them over Bruce's shoulder. "Perhaps some measure of genetic mutation. Loki should never have been able to absorb the force of that weapon and survive, let alone come out of it without any injuries." It troubled her that he looked so normal. There had been not so much as a scratch on him, and self-proclaimed god or not, Jemma found it difficult to understand. "There has to be another factor. Thor said that Loki was adopted? Do we know anything about that? About what his real heritage is?"

Bruce shook his head. "We might have to ask Thor. I have a feeling Loki won't want to talk about it." He flipped through the video of Loki's appearance in Stuttgart. "Maybe that's it," he pointed out as the images showed Loki using his illusory capabilities. "He can project images of himself. Maybe he can alter his appearance, as well. He can obviously change what he's wearing. Maybe he can hide injuries and whatnot as well. That'd be pretty handy for someone posing as a god. Gods don't bleed."

Jemma watched the video play, unable to keep from smiling as Captain Rogers appeared on the feed, all strong jaw and certain stance. There was no sound, but it didn't take much imagination or the field reports to play it out. "That would make sense. For all we know he has five broken ribs and a bloody nose right now and we just don't see them." It begged the question of why Loki hadn't simply tried to escape by being someone else. "He could have walked right out or surrendered as a member of the Brotherhood. He could have done this a thousand different ways," Jemma said slowly before looking up to Bruce, "but he told us the truth." 

Fitz scoffed. "Doesn't mean he isn't crazy."

"Of course it doesn't, but it means... it seems as if it must mean something."

Bruce's eyebrows raised a little. He hadn't thought of it that way. "Well, strange as it sounds, that would be more reassuring than the alternative." When the pair looked at him, Bruce shrugged. "That being that Tony Stark has Stockholm syndrome and that Thor's even dumber than we initially thought." He smiled faintly. "But you're right, Jemma." He'd completely forgotten that he probably should have at least called her by her last name in front of Fitz. "If he wanted to get away or at least make sure he wasn't killed, he could have done a lot of things differently. Hell, he could have posed as Tony."

Fitz' expression of disgust at the familiar address evaporated for a moment at that thought. "And apart from the science-y checking, I'm assuming Captain Rogers vetted him, yeah? Things that only, uh, they would know?" He didn't want to know a single one of those things, but it seemed fair.

Simmons scoffed, "Of course, I'm sure he did, but that... well, it's still something. Maybe he really does need help. Loki, I mean, not Mr. Stark. Maybe he really does need a place to stay." She looked from one man to the other. "It isn't as if we turned Logan away, and his past is certainly, er, colorful."

Bruce cleared his throat. "You may or may not have also dragged in someone who broke Manhattan. And Stark used to make a living off of war. Really, Thor and Steve are about the only two who might have a clean past to stand on. And I don't know that much about Thor," he pointed out with a faint smile. "All things considered, he sort of fits into this collection of misfit toys."

"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose we're rather dull tag alongs, Fitz and I," she teased, though it was an odd thought. Loki fit. He really did. That only made it more surreal. "It might actually work. Mr. Stark was right. He might... I'm not sure Agent Barton and Agent Coulson will be very happy about that." Jemma bit her lip. The pair of them had been through a great deal, and she hated to think that they would suffer for the mercy of letting Loki join the team. "After what he did, it's difficult to... well, how do you ignore someone killing another member of the team? Maybe more than one member. It... well, it's not entirely standard."

Bruce pressed his lips together and nodded. That was one thing. Bloody as Romanov, Stark, and Barton's hands were, dangerous as Bruce could be, none of them had ever killed a teammate. He wrapped his arms around himself, looking thoughtful and worried all at once. "Could be me someday, though. Loki has a lot more apparent control of himself, but..." He shook his head. "I can understand where Barton and Coulson are coming from, though. If nothing else, he's an ugly reminder. Romanov, Summers, and Logan, too. Loki's got a lot of work to do before he proves himself to the team. If he can." Bruce huffed out a quiet laugh. "I feel kind of sorry for him. The one bunch who'd even halfway consider taking him in could throw him a lot further than they'll trust him."

"Not an enviable position."

Even Fitz looked moved by the idea. "Maybe we shouldn't do the extra poking and prodding and giving him a hard time bit. Sounds like he might have that all on his own."

Simmons nodded her agreement. It was a sobering idea to realize just how alone and lost in the world Loki might be. "He and Thor were... well, they weren't killing each other. That might be good." She hoped it was good. He needed an ally, and since Tony would be spending all his waking hours with Steve, she suspected, that more or less left Thor unless Bruce decided to take him up as a pet project. "I'm not sure I'm quite ready to ask him to stay for movie night - we should set up a movie night, by the way - but, no, I don't think we should give him a more difficult time than need be."

 

Bruce nodded slowly. "Agreed." He paused, then shrugged. "Maybe we could get Sif or Thor to volunteer? With full disclosure, of course," he amended. He quirked a faint smile. "Maybe they could see fit to let us lowly mortals in on a few secrets. Or we could ask Loki nicely." He paused. "For the record? I think that's the strangest thing I've ever said. 'Ask Loki nicely.' Sounds more like a punchline. Just when I thought being part of the Avengers couldn't get any weirder."

"Asking a god - well, someone who pretends they are a god - for anything? Pretty high on the weird scale," Fitz agreed. He could barely wrap his head around everything that had happened over the past few days. It was a bizarre turn to be faced with gods and monsters and to accept that they were entirely real and apparently part of the new order. 

Simmons grinned at him, pleased to see Fitz falling into the rhythm of the conversation. She didn't want her fondness for Bruce to push them apart. They'd been one another's rock for so long that any other way of being was difficult to even imagine. "Maybe we should organize something a bit social but low pressure? Then he could try his hand at being part of things with..." She trailed off, realizing suddenly that it was a bit presumptuous on her part to be including herself or Fitz in the idea. "Well, something for the Avengers, that is. Something for all of you to spend some time together."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure that the two of you have forgone more than enough sleep on our behalf to qualify for a team movie night." He smiled faintly. "Maybe we could show them The Lord of the Rings. I think Thor would at least appreciate it. Maybe Sif as well if she sticks around long enough." He grabbed Jemma's hand and tugged her a little closer with a smile. "Besides, I'd need a date. And I wouldn't dream of leaving Fitz out." He added the last with a friendly smile at Fitz. He was starting to wonder if Fitz's disapproval was more than just protectiveness. 

Though his smile faltered at the clasped hands, Fitz agreed, "Sounds good. It would be nice to see the team in a non-emergency situation."

"A date and hanging out with the Avengers? I am moving up in the world," Jemma teased, her fingers squeezing Bruce's hand affectionately. "I think that sounds rather lovely, though." She wondered how many members of the team would show up. Tony and Steve would likely come as a show of support, such as it was. Coulson and Clint... she doubted that very much. Natasha was impossible to read at the best of times, though Jemma tended to think the woman might cast her lot in with Clint and Coulson since they'd been working together for so long. "It's going to be an interesting situation. Should we make an evite, or do you think we should just sort of spread the word?"

"We could have Jarvis tell them," Bruce decided with a smile. He doubted that Coulson, Nat, or Clint would come to the party. They'd all likely had enough of the god. He wondered if Scott and Logan would allow themselves to be dragged into it, as well. "I don't want to give them a guilt trip. Just see who shows up. We can even invite Ward and May since they definitely pulled their weight on this one. I guess if nothing else, the three of us could have a quiet night of popcorn and high fantasy. And actually going to sleep and not waking up until we're done."

"That sounds like heaven," Fitz answered wistfully. He looked over at his screen and smiled anyway. "Of course, we do have a few interesting things to go over. Should make the time pass." 

"I would like to check everything, make sure that Agent Barton is as okay as he seems to be. Not that I don't trust our newest addition, but I... well, I prefer to trust him with reason instead of blindly. Informed trust." She shrugged slim shoulders. "I'm afraid Fitz is right. We need to hide out here for a bit longer, but if you have Jarvis send the invitations around, we'll both be there with bells on for movie night." Badly as she wanted to play hookey, Simmons knew that there was a lot riding on the team being safe and well and ready for action - which meant seeing that they really were all of those things.

Bruce smiled faintly, nodding. He knew that a lot of it was their sense of duty. He also knew a fair bit of the motivation was curiosity. Bruce himself almost wanted to go over the telemetry from Tony's suit, see what he could figure out about the weapon and how Fitz's nanomachines had worked. At the same time, he was exhausted, and the idea of anything reminding him of Tony nearly dying was a little too much to handle until he got some rest. "Alright, then. I'll have Jarvis get it on everybody’s calendar. You two make sure you take a minute to eat and rest. This stuff isn't as urgent as what we've all been dealing with," he warned with a shake of his finger as he stepped out of the lab.

"Says you," Fitz countered as he settled back in at the keyboard. A minute later, his stomach rumbled, and he looked plaintively up at Simmons. "I don't suppose-"

She rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous. And of course I'll get you some food." For the first time in a long time, Jemma found herself looking forward to something that had nothing at all to do with work. Not even Fitz looking for her to play lab mother was enough to dull her spirits.


	20. Real Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve and Tony finally get a moment alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because if you aren't closing on angst? The right way to close is on smut. I'll be away on vacation for a few days, but I should be able to get the first chapter of Part 4 posted tomorrow :)

Steve rose with dignity and walked out side by side with Tony. He felt overwhelmed and grateful and shaky. The adrenaline was wearing off, the effort of the day weighed heavily on his shoulders, and even with his health improved, his stamina wasn't where it should have been. Still Steve curled his fingers around Tony's as they walked. He felt almost shy, wanting to say everything all at the same time, to question and praise and touch and ultimately unsure what to do first. "I feel like I have a million things to say. Then... it's stupid, but I kind of just want to stare at you."

"Sirs?" Jarvis interrupted, his voice somehow managing to convey reluctance over doing so.

"Yeah, Jarvis?"

"Ms. Potts is waiting in Mr. Stark's suite. She was rather overcome with the news, and I believe she wishes to see for herself that this isn't, as she put it, 'some screwed up joke.' I naturally assured her otherwise."

"Pepper..." Tony had almost forgotten, odd as it seemed. He'd been so caught up in seeing Steve that he'd considered little else. But he knew that Pepper had no doubt gone through hell thinking he was dead, too. He stayed as close as he could to Steve on the walk down without actually impeding their progress. When they stepped into his suite, the sight of Pepper so obviously having just recovered from a bout of crying tore at Tony all over again. "Pep. Hey, I'm okay," he said gently, stepping forward and offering her a hand. 

The woman was on her feet in a second and flinging her arms around Tony's neck. "If you ever," she said carefully against his skin, "ever do anything like that to us again, I will kill you. Honestly kill you." Pepper took a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes closed before finally drawing away. She gave Steve a hug as well, observing with a smile, "You're looking better already."

"Thanks. Thank you. For... you've been amazing. You are amazing." The truth was he didn't know if he would have gotten through that first night so well without Pepper beside him. 

She chuckled and raised a hand to straighten Steve's hair with a quick flick of her fingers. "I don't get paid the big bucks because I'm awful at this." She winked at Steve and then gave Tony a long look as if assuring herself he was actually standing there. "You have meetings tomorrow. Lots of them. As many as I can actually schedule because you have no idea how much paperwork and how many board meetings I've been through in the past two days. No idea." When he opened his mouth to say something, she held up a finger. "Let me enjoy you being alive. Later, you get to speak."

Steve just grinned as Pepper held the finger up the rest of the way out the door and closed it soundly behind her. He burst out laughing the second she was gone.

Tony pretended to pout for a moment, giving Steve a harmless punch to the shoulder before stepping in close, his hands tangling in the man's shirt as he held Steve's gaze, smiling even as his eyes began to tear up. "I... God, I thought I was never gonna see you again. That was the worst part. The absolute... worst," he said, voice breaking as he buried his face in Steve's chest, relieved to breathe in the man's scent, to have him pressed close. "Love you."

The tears were falling almost at once, and Steve slid his arms around Tony's waist and pulled him in tight. "I love you too. I never thought... I... don't you dare ever leave me again. I'm with Pepper on this one," he managed, voice thick with emotion. "I can't do it. I don't want to." Steve carded his fingers through Tony's hair, simply touching and soothing them both with the gesture. "I need you right here with me." He let himself flash back for a moment to the aching nights he'd spent without Tony next to him. "When Jarvis asked me to go down into the lab, I thought just... just going in there... I couldn't even..." He didn't know how to explain it, hoped that Tony understood without him being able to properly put it all into words. "I never want to do this without you again."

"I'm sorry," Tony murmured, pressing a few light kisses to Steve's lips. "I'm sorry." He pressed tight to the other man, relieved to be pulled up in Steve's powerful arms once more. He stared into Steve's bright blue eyes. "I can't promise anything. You know that, right? Not with what we do. But... but I'll be more careful. Somehow. I can't... I can't stand the thought of leaving you behind. All I could think of was how much you'd be hurting, how much I wanted you to hold me." Too much, he thought, feeling a flash of shame as his mind clicked back to his tryst with Loki.

"Well, now you won't be able to get away from it." Steve managed a smile as he held on tighter. "Pretty soon I'll be back to regular shape, and I can pick you up and actually keep you from leaving the bedroom again." He blushed and ducked before resting his forehead against Tony's. "Sorry. I'm guessing that I'm not the only one who could use a shower, and you probably need rest. Y'know, what with recovering from being dead and all. That has to be tiring." //It sure was for me.//

Tony hummed his approval of the idea. "I think that's definitely a plan. Shower, sleep... and then you can hold me down in the bed and make sure I never want to leave again, even if I can," he decided, pulling Steve into a slow kiss before his lips moved down the blond's jaw and latched onto that spot on Steve's throat that he knew so well. He raised a hickey there, then grinned as he drew away and moved toward the bathroom. "Just had to do that while it'll still linger for more than a few minutes," he threw back over his shoulder, shrugging off clothes as he walked.

Steve let out a shaky groan and finally coaxed his legs into moving. He couldn't help staring at Tony as the man moved, every sinuous step leaving more of his gorgeous body exposed. Steve almost forgot to see to his own clothes until he was stepping across the threshold of the bathroom. Steve left them all in an undignified heap right there and caught up so that he could catch Tony around the waist and pull him in close. It was still odd, the fit of their bodies together while his own form lay somewhere between normal and not. That did nothing to detract from the perfection of the touches. "Hope this is okay even before, y'know, the sleep bit."

Tony smirked. Steve had caught him just before he'd managed to turn on the water, but the billionaire didn't protest at all. "Sleep? Who the hell said anything about sleep?" he teased, pulling the blonde into a slow kiss. It was odd, having his lover at almost the exact same height he was, neither having to lean down or or stretch upwards for a kiss. The man still felt like perfection against him, though, and Tony relished the feeling of their bared forms pressed together. "Must've had that helmet on too tight..." Trailing off, he caught Steve's lips in another breathless kiss, his arms draping over Steve's shoulders.

"Mmm, maybe," Steve allowed as he melted into the embrace. Reluctantly, he leaned over and turned the water on. "I do need a shower first." Showering just to get more disgusting was questionable, but that didn't mean that it was a bad idea. "You need to do something about those suits. Sweaty. Also, I think every inch of me is bruised." He paused and allowed, "Okay, that may be partially my fault for being pretty bad with the thrusters." Even as he began to kiss his way down the side of Tony's neck, he muttered, "Saw your first go 'round with them, though. Comforting."

"They t...ake some getting used to," Tony replied, his voice catching as Steve's lips moved across the perfect spot on his neck, near his collarbone. "Repulsors." When Steve's eyes flicked up at him, he clarified in the most distracted voice ever, "They're r... repulsors - and fuck, that's the right spot," he breathed, squirming against his lover. "Besides, you'll heal. Fast." He nibbled at Steve's jaw, not minding the faint saltiness one bit. "Maybe I could... put in... What are we talking about?" he wanted to know, his fingers fairly digging into Steve's back.

"Doesn't matter." Steve stepped into the shower but didn't let the separation linger. He dragged Tony in after him with a grin and pushed the man up against the wall. "This spot?" He nipped and then sucked at it. Normally it was Tony who managed to put his lips in precisely the right place to make him lose his mind. It was a luxury to have the shoe on the other foot and even more of a boost to his ego to have made Tony lose the thread of conversation when they were talking about the suit. "Made me feel close to you, though," he murmured between kisses, "being in the suit and hearing Jarvis." Steve's teeth scraped over the skin, and his arms circled around Tony beneath the pounding spray of the water. "It was like having a piece of you with me."

Tony had to work hard to focus on Steve's words as the man worked a spot the man hadn't even known was a weakness until that moment. He squirmed between the tiled wall and his lover, making soft whimpering sounds that were borderline undignified. "Glad it helped," he managed, tilting his head so the water was no longer running down his face, though it had already done its job plastering dark curls to his forehead. "Wanted to make sure you... mm... had something in case the serum... was a bust. Or I didn't come back." He gasped and arched as Steve's teeth raked perfectly over the sensitive spot. "Wanted you safe."

"Safest with you," Steve muttered against Tony's skin. He couldn't seem to talk himself into stopping long enough to say more, not with Tony twitching and gasping against him. He'd thought he would never hear those sounds again or feel the heat of his lover's body. The idea alone drew a ragged groan from Steve as he pressed himself in more firmly against Tony. He knew eventually that he'd need to give Tony enough room to breathe properly. Eventually. In the meanwhile, Steve nipped and sucked at the already-red skin.

"F-fuck," was all Tony managed, clutching helplessly at Steve as the man's teeth and tongue drove him nearly insane. It felt perfect. It was just what he'd needed. Tony finally convinced his fingers to let go of their death grip on Steve's bicep, trailing his fingers up to the back of Steve's neck. He managed to raise one leg up, hooking it over Steve's hip and pressing their aching cocks together in the most perfect way. Tony gasped, his head falling back against the tiles. "God, yes. Need you, baby. Love you..."

"Love you too. Love you, Tony," Steve panted against the man as he stopped kissing to move his hips. His cock slid against Tony's, wet and just a little bit too rough. "Love you, and I don't ever want... don't want to not have you with me..." He wasn't worrying about making sense, but Steve finally did coax one of his hands away from Tony's skin long enough to grab blindly, finding conditioner and using it as makeshift lube. Steve's hand curled around them both, not large enough yet to do it with ease, but enough to increase the pressure as they rutted against one another. 

 

Tony whimpered needfully as he rocked his hips against Steve's, gasping as their cocks slid perfectly together. "Never gonna... leave," he gasped in agreement to Steve's rambling. He buried his face into the wet skin of the blonde's neck, panting helplessly. He was far too eager to last long but he fully intended to spend the next day... or maybe week or month... curled up in Steve's arms, and he needed the release and the intimacy with his lover far too much to hold back.

Steve nodded and let go. He let every inch of the desperate heat he felt unfurl. He held tightly to Tony and let himself believe that he was really holding his lover and that Tony wouldn't disappear again when he opened his eyes. This time it wasn't an ephemeral dream, it was solid, messy, tired-looking reality that was so much better he almost couldn't stand it. "I dreamed about you," Steve murmured breathlessly as they moved. "I hated waking up because you wouldn't be there." The movement of his hips faltered for a second and then resumed, the tension building quickly to a fever pitch. It wouldn't take long. "Gonna wake up to you every day from now on."

Tony opened his mouth to agree, but only a shaky, hitched gasp escaped. He'd done more than dream about Steve, and it was something he had to figure out how to tell his lover. The words were like a knife, but the feeling of the blonde pressed against him was enough to wipe out the hurt. "I... oh, Steve," he groaned, feeling the edge nearing. Every shift of his lover's hips, his hand, drove another moan from Tony, and soon he was cumming hard over his lover's fingers, gasping out Steve's name mingled with curses and moans of pleasure.

The extra heat and the moisture let Steve stroke just a bit faster, and he came seconds later. The water washed away the evidence quickly enough. Shaking and boneless, Steve sagged against Tony. Instead of mauling his lover's neck, he began kissing the same spots, gentle and soothing as his breathing slowed to a normal pace. "Promise I'll do a better job of that later. After we both sleep." Still shaky, Steve drew away and grabbed a loofah and some soap to get them both decent. The last thing he wanted was to let Tony go, but it would be worth it to stop smelling like gym socks. The idea of curling up in bed with a damp, clean Tony at his side was more than enough. "I slept here, y'know. Pepper stayed with me the first night."

Tony let his lover clean them up, but he couldn't resist touching the man as he worked. The words hurt him in ways he could barely describe, and Tony felt the tears burn his eyes even as the shower washed them away. "God, baby... I'm so sorry," he murmured, leaning up for a kiss. It hurt to imagine Steve, alone and weak and still sick from losing the serum, curled up in the middle of his bed. Even more to know that Pepper had been hurting just as much. "I'm here, though. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He tried not to think of where he'd been, what he'd been doing. That just made it worse. In retrospect, it seemed like a profoundly selfish thing, taking solace in Loki's illusion while Steve had suffered miserably.

"I know," Steve sighed, kissing Tony back with hunger that had nothing at all to do with sex. He calmed down by the time he drew back and even managed a smile for Tony. "Hope you don't mind if it takes me a couple of days to believe I'm not just suffering a horrific mental breakdown." He'd been sure of that when he first saw Tony, but then everyone else seemed to see him too, and he'd slowly realized that maybe Tony was real after all. "Let's get out of the shower, dry off, and sleep for a week or two. Or-" He broke off as Jarvis quietly interrupted to tell them about the movie night. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what the purpose was, but he only hesitated for a moment. "Tell Dr. Banner we'll be there. Thank you, Jarvis." He half-smiled. "Okay, so maybe we just sleep till tomorrow evening."

Tony smiled faintly. "Long as it's with you, I don't really care," he assured as they slipped out of the shower. He couldn't resist snatching the towel away before Steve could grab it so that he got to enjoy drying them both off. "And, y'know, while you're reassuring yourself that I'm not a case of the crazies, I'll be not getting more than three feet away from you, so there's that." He pressed his lips to Steve's jaw as he closed the distance between them again. "I nearly lost it when I thought I was never gonna see you again." //Or maybe I actually did lose it for a second. Or a few days.//

"The feeling is definitely mutual." He wasn't sure he'd survive a few more days without Tony, let alone a lifetime. Every tiny reminder of the man's outsized presence had left him grasping and desperate to have the man back, to have him close. Steve swallowed hard and hung the towel to get it out of the way before he slipped into Tony's embrace, their lightly damp skin clinging with the movement. With an effort he drew away long enough for them to get to the bed and tumble in, still naked. The scent of Tony lingering in the sheets had been the only thing that let him sleep for the previous two days. Having the real thing was a revelation. Steve buried his face against Tony's neck with a sigh. "Love the way you smell." 

Tony smiled. He'd heard a lot of compliments, but the way he smelled wasn't usually a top selling point. Still, he could definitely understand. "Same to you," he murmured, all too thrilled to have Steve pressed against him in his - their - own bed. His fingers carded through the blonde's still-damp hair, and he drew a deep breath. "I think I owe Fitz a new centrifuge, or some other ridiculously expensive piece of lab equipment." He was quiet for a moment, and the reality of everything started to sink in. His arms tightened around Steve, and Tony couldn't help it. He started crying, silent sobs wracking his body as he clung to his lover. It was relief and sadness and terror all at once, and Tony couldn't even find words to express it all as it overwhelmed him.

Though Steve felt the tears pricking his eyes again, he ignored them in favor of clinging to Tony and trying to soothe him through his pain. He could only imagine the fear he'd felt and didn't even want to ask what Loki might have done or said while they were alone. Shivering, he clung to his lover and tried to forget everything but the fact that Tony was safe and alive and in his arms. "You're here, and I'm here, and I'm not letting you go again. I won't, Tony. Not ever. I swear to God, I won't ever let you go." His voice broke, and he stopped trying to talk or do anything but hang on for dear life.

It was several moments before Tony got hold of himself, and he groped around blindly until he managed to get his hand on the box of tissues and clean himself up a bit. "Love you," he murmured shakily, his hands sliding over Steve's arms as he settled back into the bed. He burrowed in close to Steve, feeling as if he couldn't get any closer. Falling silent, he felt exhaustion tugging at him. He wanted to stay awake, but it was a losing battle, and he fell asleep after murmuring the words a second time.

The rest wasn't an easy one, and Tony's mind was filled with images of Loki, moving over him, doing all the right things to drive him out of his mind. The dream reached a crescendo, and Tony woke with a jerk, hard and gasping the god's name.

Steve bolted upright at the cry, sure that Tony was being attacked. It took a beat for him to register that they were alone in the room and that Tony wasn't crying out in fear or pain, he was panting and hard as a rock. Steve's blood ran cold at the realization, at what it could mean. Dreams didn't have to mean anything. They might mean absolutely nothing at all, just nonsense, but then he met Tony's dark gaze, and the intensity of the guilt there left him feeling sick. "Tony... what happened?"

Tony swallowed hard, the twist of guilt and fear he felt at the question enough to kill any remaining arousal. He drew himself up, looking away as he wrapped his arms around his chest, feeling exposed. "I'm sorry." He realized that didn't explain a damn thing, and he took a deep breath as he looked into Steve's eyes. "He... he disguised himself as you. I knew it wasn't you. I saw through it, but... I thought I was dead. Loki had told me he was going to use me for awhile and then kill me. I just wanted a little comfort. And I thought... I thought I'd never see you again, so..." He bit his lower lip and trailed off, taking a deep breath. He started to leave out the rest, but it had hurt enough already to keep the secrets from Steve. "The next time, though, he didn't... didn't bother with the disguise." Tony felt panic as he realized that the revelation might mean Steve would never so much as talk to him again, that he might end up losing the man, anyway. He clenched his jaw as he fought back the urge to cry.

Steve's emotions rolled from fury that Loki would pose as him to disbelief that Tony had continued on even knowing to anger again that Loki had threatened his lover's life. When Tony confessed that he'd been with Loki even knowing that he didn't have to be and knowing exactly who he was with, Steve felt his heart stop for a second. Somehow the combination of hearing the words and seeing the guilt on Tony's face combined to leave Steve utterly terrified. They hadn't been together long. He knew that. So it wasn't crazy for Tony to... Steve tried to stop the train of thought, but the seed had already been planted, and he had to swallow several times around the lump in his throat before he could speak again. It would at least explain why Tony was suddenly so eager to have Loki on the team. "And now? Do you... is... I can go," he murmured, feeling sick all over again at the idea of going back to his room alone. "We don't have to do this just because... you don't owe me anything, Tony."

Tony's eyes widened with genuine fear at the suggestion, and he reached out to grab onto Steve's shoulder, letting go a second later when it occurred that the contact might not be welcome just then. "Don't leave. Please, god, Steve, don't leave," he begged, desperate and scared. "I swear, I thought... I thought I was never gonna see you again and... Oh." He realized suddenly how it looked, him insisting on Loki being spared, on him joining the team. "Steve..." He shook his head, looking almost hurt. "Steve, baby... I didn't bring him here because I wanted to..." He reached out, his hand sliding gently to the side of the blonde's neck as he looked into bright blue eyes. "I love you, Steve. I did something stupid because I was scared and I thought I was as good as dead. Please... forgive me?"

 

Steve tried to blink away the tears and only succeeded in sending them falling down his cheeks. Relief was the silliest possible thing to feel in a moment like that, but he felt it just the same and more or less fell against Tony, sobbing without reservation. He'd been terrified that somehow in the space of a few days, he'd managed to lose the man despite him being alive. There was no chance of speaking. He couldn't. The pent up emotions were too much, the relief was too much, the hurt was too much, and Steve wanted nothing more than to cling to Tony until he could remember how to breathe again. 

It was the last response Tony had expected, but he hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arms around Steve. He felt a little odd, holding someone so much bigger against him and trying to offer comfort, but that was well overridden by his own wave of relief. Steve didn't hate him. Well, he hadn't said as much, but the fact that the man was crying against his chest rather than running away or breaking his nose said enough. "It's okay, baby," he murmured, unsure of what else to say. "It... I'm here, and you're all I want."

Steve finally managed to get himself under control and shifted until his forehead rested against Tony's. "Okay. You... you're all I want. You always are." He sounded more in control when he added, "I love you, Tony." Gentle hands rose to cup Tony's face, and Steve noted dimly that they looked more or less normal. He didn't care enough to examine the situation further. Tony mattered a hell of a lot more than whether the serum was really kicking in or not. "I'm glad you told me. I can't say I'm... I wish it hadn't ever happened. None of it. I wish we'd just given Clint the damn hammer and let him- but it happened. I'm glad you told me, and I'm glad... I'm so glad that... I'm glad that this is still what you want."

"All I've ever wanted," Tony assured, his fingers trailing up to Steve's. The man was definitely more or less back to fighting form, a thought that was a surprising relief. "I wish none of it had happened, either. God, if I'd known I'd be getting back to you, I never would've let him touch me," he murmured. He knew he might still have been compelled to do so, forced under the idea that Coulson and Barton would otherwise be disposed of. But that was a whole other scenario. Tony leaned in for a tentative kiss, not wanting to push. "I need you, Steve, and I love you."

Steve let the words sink in, let them push past the momentary terror at the idea that maybe he wasn't really what Tony needed, that they could never be alike enough for it to work. He chose consciously to believe Tony's words and the warmth of his arms instead. "I love you too. I love you so much, Tony." He breathed in the scent of the man and then shifted so that he could kiss Tony's lips, slow and soft, tasting and enjoying the light contact. After a moment, he snorted and pressed his face against Tony's neck. "Movie night is going to suck."

Tony couldn't help the faint laugh at that. "Yeah, it's gonna be awkward as hell. I vote we sit on the opposite side of the room." He paused. "Though we may have to show up early if we want those seats," he decided, then shook his head. "That is, if anyone else shows up. I do feel kinda sorry for him." He paused, looking uneasy. "He... I told him I didn't want him to tell you about... well. And he kinda gave me a secret as a sort of hostage, I guess, to make me believe he wouldn't. Since that's out of the bag... I don't want this going around the tower, but..." Tony took a deep breath, realizing he was rambling again. "Apparently... Thor kinda broke his heart. Like, romantically."

Steve knew he was staring and knew his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn't really do anything about it. The idea that Thor had been involved with his brother of all people left him utterly speechless. "It... was it... Nevermind, I guess it doesn't matter whether he knew Loki was adopted or not, they were raised together and... wow." He could barely process the information. Despite his intentions to leave it lie and a certainty that he probably didn't want to know more, Steve ventured, "What happened between them?" 

"Obviously, the whole thing was a secret. Loki decided he didn't want to be a skeleton in Thor's closet. Well, he thought he wouldn't be eventually, that they'd be ruling Asgard together," Tony explained, relieved in a way that Steve was asking questions, that someone else might actually understand why Tony could feel at least a little sympathetic toward Loki after all the trickster had done. "He let Thor know that he wanted more, and I guess his brother just cut him loose without a word."

"Oh..." It made a lot more sense when he thought of the whole thing in those terms. Loki wasn't a petulant child acting out at a family who hadn't given him the attention he wanted: he was a spurned lover whose heart had been shattered. Add in the family drama, and it wasn't difficult to see where he'd started down the wrong path. Steve sighed and felt the first creeping notes of sympathy winding through him. "Makes it harder than I'd like to hate the guy. Right now it would be a whole lot easier to hate him. It's hard to believe Thor would be so cold."

Tony tilted his head a little. "Maybe he was scared. Mommy and daddy want him to be a prince, marry a girl, rule a kingdom. He just wants a guy who, as far as anyone knows, is his brother. But mom and dad trump that when you're a dumb kid. Or teenager. Or... how fast to Asgardians grow up, anyway?" Tony wondered aloud, brow furrowing. He shook his head a moment later. "Point is, people do stupid shit when they're scared. Trust me; I know."

Steve managed the faintest of smiles at that. "Yeah, I kinda noticed that." He kissed his lover to take the sting out of the moment for them both and sighed again. "Okay, yeah, I guess I kinda see why maybe you feel for the guy. And maybe I feel for him a little too. A little. A very, very little." He went back to burying his face against Tony's neck just to be closer. "Still think it would've been easier to turn Loki into paste, but, fine. We'll be nice. I won't kill him. I might punch him if the opportunity arises, but I won't kill him, and I'll try to be nice." He lifted his head. "Uh, considering the situation, maybe we should see about adjoining rooms or something for him and Thor. It seems... it seems kind of needlessly cruel to make them share a single bedroom suite."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, I'd thought of that. I'll see if I can finagle it without Fury asking too many goddamn questions." He smirked. "Also, I wouldn't completely object to you punching him. For Phil, if nothing else," he said, ruffling blonde hair. "Besides, I don't think it'd hurt him that much. And turning him to paste? Then we'd be sending Clint to the Fridge to spend the rest of his days hoping to escape and take over the world. And I think the Megalomaniac section's getting pretty full in there."

"Fine, okay, you're right. I like Clint," Steve allowed, though he didn't bother to try and pretend he wasn't pouting just a little. Tony owed him, and he intended to make the man pay up. "And I love you, so no paste. Promise." He found himself kissing Tony's neck, nipping at it in a foolish, pointless sort of punishment for the man's crimes. Ultimately he couldn’t be angry at Tony for being stupid and desperate. He'd felt the same way, he'd just dealt with it differently. "Luckily for you I don't have much room for feeling anything but really glad that you're alive and here with me even if we are going to be sitting in a room with Loki all evening. Do you think... I mean, they wouldn't... he and Thor... it's, uh..." Steve shook it off. "I'm sure it's all past tense."

"Well, if it isn't, it's gonna be awkward," Tony observed with a smirk. "Maybe that kind of thing's okay in Asgard? Like ancient Egypt?" Getting a look, Tony shrugged. "I'm trying to make it less awkward!" He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. I have no idea. I'm sure you're right. All things considered, I'm surprised they're okay with being in the same room together. I'm sure they're not... uh... yeah."

"I'm just going to keep not picturing it. Not picturing it is... that's my thing," Steve decided with a shudder. It wasn't just that they'd been raised together, that they were brothers, it was Loki, for heaven's sake. He decided to dedicate as much brain power as needed to seeing that he didn't think too much about the god naked. "From here on in, it's just you naked. That's it. I don't need any other nudity in my life." Steve couldn't help smirking at the look Tony gave him. "Unless we both agree on something else at some point, though I admit that I don't see myself being okay with sharing you anytime soon."

"So, what I'm getting from this is that I should cancel the massive swing party I had set up for next Friday," Tony replied without batting an eye. He couldn't keep a straight face long, though, and he leaned in to nip at Steve's lower lip. "Okay, no more imagining Loki naked for you. But you don't really have to do much imagining when it comes to me. All you have to do is ask. Anytime. Anywhere. My fly is always open."

Steve groaned but still rewarded Tony with a kiss. "I think I need to take you up on that policy. For reasons of scrubbing my mind clean. You think you can help me out with that? At least give me more attractive dirty things to picture?" He smirked and let one hand slide down to Tony's hip. "We have a whole day before we have to have to face the world. I want to spend it with you." Steve dove in for a kiss, knowing Tony wasn't likely to mind.


End file.
